


A Monster Among Us

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-05
Updated: 2008-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Harry shook his head, his body language shifting as his confidence seemed to grow right before Remus's eyes. "It's the bite," he said quietly, raising his hand up and pushing it into the neck of his shirt, exposing a raw, jagged wound. "It's making me different." Remus stared at him. "You've never been bitten," he said, his eyes widening in shock. But Harry shook his head again and moved forward. "I'm a werewolf, Remus. Just like you." </i></p><p>23,600 words. NC-17. Established Remus/Sirius, with added permutations of Remus/Sirius/Harry. Underage. Bestiality. Some violence. Dark themes. Mind games. Moral ambiguity. OotP-compliant. Harry is 15. Written for the livelongnmarry auction. October 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Monster Among Us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for flaeyr, who won my auction at livelongnmarry. She wanted a Remus/Sirius/Harry werewolf story, plotty with detailed sex scenes, and featuring most of the other specific scenarios you'll see here. She didn't precisely ask for this overall structure, but it landed in my brain and wouldn't leave. This is set during OotP, so Harry is 15. Huge thanks to islandsmoke and bewarethesmirk for final beta help, and to many other advisors and hand-holders along the way. :)

**Phase 1: Infiltration**

The child was small, below average height for his age and much too gaunt. Sweat poured down his face and his entire body shook with violent tremors as his wide eyes took in the scene before him.

The monster was coming.

He was huge and terrible, coarse hair covering his limbs and sprouting out the collar of his ripped, bloodied shirt, while fangs descended over cracked lips. He snarled at the child and lunged, huge footfalls covering the distance between them quickly. The child's shoulders quaked, his tiny feet rooting him to the spot despite the screaming voice in his mind ordering him to move, run, hide as fast as he could.

"John Lupin's son," the monster was growling, slowing his strides and circling around the child. "Oh, revenge is sweet, isn't it, with a pretty little thing like you." He closed in on the boy and bared his teeth, glistening incisors snapping. The boy sobbed and backed away until he hit a tree trunk. Fingers edged with sharp black nails dug into his cloak, yanking him forward and off the ground, his feet dangling as the monster's breath washed over him, stinging his eyes and numbing his responses. He could do nothing – not cry for help or fight or run. All he could do was tremble and sob, not even understanding what he had done to get in so much trouble, why this monster wanted to hurt him so much, and as the teeth came closer to his neck, he closed his eyes and begged silently for his parents to find him, to help him, to save him before –

"_Stupefy!_"

All of a sudden, the boy crashed to the ground as the monster lost his grip, and he scrambled on his hands and knees over to the base of the tree before peeking out, his heart hammering in his chest. A man was approaching through the clearing, his wand raised. His face was covered in shadow, but the boy thought he recognised the way his steps fell one in front of the other, the way his dark hair stood up at the back and the way his voice soothed even while casting spells.

The monster hesitated a moment on the ground before raising himself first to all fours and shaking it off like a wet dog, and then to his feet, turning slowly to face the newcomer. "Well, well, well," he drawled. "Has little Lupin here got a knight in shinin' armour?" He laughed, cold and dark, and the boy saw his saviour's wand falter. "Should've expected you to show up," he continued, wiping one grimy hand over his mouth and stalking forward. "I hear your mind's been ripped wide open. But this ain't a bad dream, laddie." He pointed back at the boy over his shoulder, his eyes still locked on the newcomer. "Make you a deal, though. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like, and I keep that godfather of yours out of it." He paused, his lips curling up in a knowing sneer. "Bet you like the sound of that one, eh? Come on. Give him up."

"You know I won't," the newcomer said, his voice even and his wand hand steady again as it pointed at the monster. The boy glanced between the pair of them with wide eyes from where he huddled at the base of the tree.

The monster laughed, a terrible sound that echoed in the boy's ears. "Yeah," said the monster with a grin, stalking forward and batting the wand out of the man's hand as if it were a toothpick. "I do know that."

And then the forest swelled with screams, the sound of churned flesh and cries of pain reverberating off the rustling trees as the monster fell on top of the man and ripped at him with teeth and nails. Over it all, the sound of the boy's own screams tore through the clearing, tortured and agonised and endless.

Miles away, in a dark bedroom in a property called Grimmauld Place in London, Remus Lupin sat bolt upright, his head pounding, his eyes wide, and the cold wash of the dream still hanging off the edges of his waking mind. His chest heaved and he raised a shaking hand to wipe the dampness from his forehead, and then, without thinking, he patted his hand up his bare chest and over to the scar tissue at his shoulder.

Thank God.

He slumped forward, his heart still racing and his breath coming in frantic gasps. Beside him, a body stirred, rolling over with the slow drip of sleep still clinging to it. A hand fumbled up over a face, pushing black hair back.

"What is it?" mumbled Sirius, his voice as thick and rumbling as a snore, and Remus had to take three more deep breaths before he could answer.

_Harry_, he nearly said, the syllables alive on his tongue, nearly choking through his mouth and out into the cool midnight air of the bedroom. _It's Harry_. But his rational mind crept back in, and Remus realised that if he said that name, Sirius would only charge out of bed and wake up the whole house, frantic with worry for the boy. It was just an ordinary nightmare, Remus reminded himself, rubbing at his eyes before sinking back down to the bed. "Nothing," he murmured, turning away from Sirius even as an arm was draped over him and the snoring began anew at his back. Harry was asleep downstairs, or else staring at the ceiling and worrying about Arthur's injury or heading back to school soon. All was as it should be. He closed his eyes, whispering one more time to reassure himself. "It was nothing."

***

Remus occasionally mused on how odd it was to see a face best described as a carbon copy of James's ever crumple in worry, but Harry had managed not only to do it, but to maintain it, over the entire Christmas holiday.

His limbs seemed to move slower than they had back in the summer, his bright eyes had dimmed and his temper flared just as quickly as Sirius's. He was fifteen years old and bore the weight of the Wizarding world on his shoulders, and Remus couldn't help but watch him closely that week, anxious to learn how the boy was holding up under the stress.

Well, that was one reason for watching him. The other was more difficult to explain, even to himself, Remus quickly found.

"I'm going to consider Dumbledore's suggestion," he said to Sirius one night after the rest of the house had retired. Lounging on the sofa in the living room with a tumbler of cheap whisky in their hands, Remus tightened his arm around Sirius, who was lying back against him, and brushed his lips over his forehead. They had been careful to avoid that topic for the past few months.

"Don't know what's taken you so long," said Sirius, as he always did when this topic came up. "Not like he can send just anyone out to those packs."

"Yes, but it's dangerous. You know that."

He shrugged, draining his glass and then reaching for Remus's. "Not a good enough reason not to do it."

Remus sighed. "Well, anyway. I said I'm thinking about doing it, so you can save me the lecture on my duties."

"Fine, fine. What changed your mind?"

"The thought of some time away from your pestering arse," Remus deadpanned, trailing a finger up Sirius's arm, but Sirius only twisted his neck around to glare up at him, smirking. Remus sighed. "We don't know what they're doing out there for Voldemort's cause," he said quietly. "They could be actively converting young men, attacking them and recruiting them to the packs... You didn't see that man at St Mungo's. If it wasn't Greyback himself who did it, it was one of his followers. They're attacking more and more now..." He tried to clamp down on the vision of Harry from his dream. "If I can stop it, I should."

Sirius only nodded, squeezing his hand.

"Now your job is to tell me how much you'll miss me, and how worried you'll be that I'll find some ruggedly handsome werewolf to shag out in the forest."

Glancing up at him, Sirius grinned, his tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip in a way that always meant mischief was on his mind. "I shall miss you, Moony," he said solemnly, "and I shall worry constantly that you'll be shagging some ruggedly handsome werewolf out in the forest. Maybe up against a tree every night," he added, his voice dropping to a purr, "with a cock in your mouth or your back scraped raw on the bark, moaning and coming so hard you don't even notice the moon shifting or your–"

"I see the idea doesn't bother you as much as I thought it might," said Remus, laughing and taking a swipe at Sirius.

Sirius turned in his arms, crawling on top of him and sitting up, his thighs straddling Remus's lap. "I have a vivid imagination," he murmured, leaning in to bite lightly at Remus's neck.

"Do you now." Remus curled his fingers into Sirius's jeans and pulled him down harder, thrusting up a little bit. "And what's in that imagination of yours right now?"

"Well." Sirius's lips moved from Remus's neck to his collarbone and then up his jaw, nibbling at his day-old beard and then breathing hotly in Remus's ear. "I imagine if you want to impress the feral werewolves of southern Wales with your prowess at shagging in forests, you'll want to do some practicing, hm?"

"In a forest?"

Sirius attacked his neck anew, making Remus moan and tilt his head back. "Not necessarily, no. But you should definitely, ah, practice."

Remus directed Sirius's head up to kiss him, light and teasing and then more insistent. "Are you asking for something in particular?" he breathed against Sirius's mouth when they parted, and Sirius lapped at Remus's bottom lip, smirking.

"Been a while since we put that Wolfsbane to good use," he murmured, and Remus felt the shudder begin at the base of his spine at the suggestion, shooting down his thighs and out to his fingertips. It wasn't something they did often, either with Padfoot or Moony, and the full moon wasn't for another few days, but even talking about it was enough to make Remus shiver with arousal.

Unbidden, the room went black and his mind exploded with the image of Harry underneath him on the forest floor, naked and writhing as Moony approached and fell on top of him. Harry moaned and shoved his arse back, his elbows digging into the dirt as he glanced back over his shoulder with hooded eyes and reddened lips, panting. _I'm a werewolf_, he was saying, the words foreign on his tongue. _Fuck me like you'd fuck a werewolf_. And then Moony was driving into him, pinning him to the ground and thrusting with hard, erratic strokes as Harry clawed at the earth and cried out. The clouds shifted then, and at the streak of moonlight that fell down to them, Harry began to change as well, his incisors lengthening and his back curving with the spine and shoulder blades of the wolf. He stayed in a half-changed form while Remus fucked him, driven by the need to hold this new, young werewolf down and teach him a lesson, keep him from transforming completely and challenging Remus's authority. _Harder, wolf_, Harry was chanting. _God, harder_.

The image evaporated as quickly as it had come, and Remus blinked the room back into focus. Sucking in a breath with a shudder of alarm, he trained his gaze on Sirius again, who was still leisurely grinding against Remus and trailing his mouth down his chest, following the fingers that unbuttoned Remus's shirt. Remus exhaled and tried to stop trembling, squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the remnants of the sudden vision. "Upstairs," he croaked, his hand firm on Sirius's shoulder to stop him from going further, but Sirius just quirked an eyebrow at him.

"More privacy down here than upstairs with the kids," he pointed out, but Remus shook his head. "Come on," teased Sirius. "Let's play big bad werewolf right here in the living room. Help, help," he added in a mock feminine voice. "I'm being attacked by a werewolf with– with–" his eyes widened as he moved his hand down to cup Remus's groin – "an _enormous_, terrifying prick." Never one to play the damsel in distress for too long, Sirius immediately reached to unfasten Remus's trousers, but Remus shot a hand out to circle Sirius's wrist.

"No werewolf stuff," he snapped, and Sirius raised his eyes from the wrist to Remus's face.

"Moony, what are you–"

"_No_."

Sirius looked annoyed. "You _like_ the werewolf st–"

"Not tonight." He released Sirius's hand and scrubbed at his face. "Never mind. I'm just– I'm going to go to bed. Look, I just wanted to tell you about the envoy work, okay? I'll probably leave after the kids go back to school, see if the packs in Wales will talk to me." He rose from the sofa and headed for the door. He hesitated when he got there, rubbing at the back of his neck before turning back to face Sirius, who was staring after him with his brows creased.

"Yeah, all right. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"It's just, if I'm going to be doing this," Remus tried again, "I can't be, I don't know, eroticising werewolves and transformations and such." He made a vague gesture with his hand before sighing. "And I won't really be fucking any wolves in the forest, you know," he added with a half smile before turning serious again. "I'd never do that to you."

A flash of something Remus couldn't place crossed Sirius's face as he dragged the back of his hand over his forehead to push his hair back, but in another moment it was gone, and Sirius sat up, leaning forward on the sofa with his elbows lodged on his knees. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."

***

When the kids left later that week, Remus barred himself from giving Harry a hug or even a good-natured ruffle of his hair. _It wasn't real_, he tried to tell himself, as if repeating it on a loop like that might make him better able to forget the visions he had been having, attacking him night and day now for no reason that he could see. He barely trusted himself even to look at Harry, never mind touch him; the boy's mere presence was enough to activate images of him naked and arching against a cold floor after a transformation, or approaching Remus with that terrible scar on his neck and begging him to lick a trail over it, or –

He squeezed his eyes shut and retreated to the far corner of the kitchen table, sitting down to watch from afar as Tonks helped the kids gather their things and begin to shuffle upstairs.

"Don't take _any_ shit from Snape with that Occlumency, do you hear me?" Sirius was saying to the boy, his eyes flashing and his index finger pointed in warning.

Harry huffed, twisting his lips into a grimace. "I don't want anything to do with him," he muttered.

"I don't, either," said Sirius, "so if he does anything to you, anything at all, you tell me about it, yeah? Here." He pushed a package into Harry's hands, and Remus sighed. That bloody mirror. A wave of grief washed over him as he remembered the way Sirius and James would whip those things out of their pockets at the drop of a hat, bending over them and whispering frantically. It seemed fitting that Sirius would want to pass one of them along to James's son, but it still provoked a pang of sadness in Remus.

Harry nodded, shoving the package in his pocket and blinking up at Sirius with that youthful innocence and determination that Remus couldn't help but admire. He was more like his godfather than either of them knew.

"I could come with you," continued Sirius, dropping his voice as his face took on a longing that tugged at Remus's heart as he watched. "I'll go as Padfoot; it'll be fine. We can–"

"It's too dangerous," whispered Harry, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed, before throwing his arms around Sirius and clinging to him, although only for a brief moment. Sirius enveloped him in an embrace, his arms wrapped tight around the boy and his face nearly buried against Harry's hair. He let one hand slide up from the boy's back into the ruffled hair at the back of his head, his fingers moving slowly through the dark mess, and Remus could have sworn Sirius _inhaled_ the boy, closing his eyes and letting the intimate moment wash over him.

Remus sighed, resting his chin in his hand and wishing things didn't have to be like this, wishing Sirius didn't have to hide away from his godson after so much time apart from him already. They had such an obvious connection; it would be good for both of them, Remus mused, if they could spend more time together.

As he pulled out of the hug, Sirius's lips brushed over Harry's forehead, and the boy closed his eyes briefly and tried to smile, but his face remained shadowed. "All right, off you go," said Sirius gently, stepping back and wiping a hand over his mouth, letting it linger there a moment as Harry gathered his things and headed upstairs.

Remus rose to follow, pausing to place a reassuring hand over Sirius's shoulder and exchange a glance of comfort with him.

Once Remus and Tonks had successfully led the kids through the Knight Bus journey and deposited them at the gates of Hogwarts, Remus took one last chance to peek inside the collar of Harry's cloak as he reached out stiffly to shake his hand, a wave of relief washing over him once more at the absence of any scar tissue there. "Look after yourself," he managed, and Harry held his gaze, smiling shyly at him and dropping the handshake, shoving his hands back in his pockets and kicking at the dirt a bit.

"Yeah, all right," said Harry, his tongue wetting his bottom lip and leaving a tiny drop of moisture there to glint in the bright winter sun. "See you, then."

Remus found himself fixated on that drop, his breath accelerating before he caught himself, swallowing and stepping back. He nodded sharply and waved as Harry turned to join his friends, casting one last glance at Remus over his shoulder, his eyes lingering and his face beginning to flush, as though his thoughts of Remus might mirror Remus's thoughts of him. But a second later, Remus turned away, disgusted with himself for letting his imagination get the better of him. He was just under stress; that had to be it. Those bloody dreams really had to stop, and now that Harry was gone from the house, maybe they would.

Harry wasn't a werewolf. That would be absurd. _It wasn't real_, Remus repeated to himself again. _It wasn't real_.

***

The voice was cold in the monster's ear. "And so, what news of the werewolf?"

"I do believe I'm makin' progress, sir."

"I am not interested in _progress_. I will have nothing less than full infiltration and decimation."

The monster turned, but there was no sign of anyone behind him. He sighed. "Easy, guv. Gonna take some time to get his mind nice and soft. This one ain't like the boy. He's still resistin' a bit."

"What did you say to me?"

"I– now look, there ain't no need to– oh. Christ. I can't– I can't feel my–" The monster shrieked, collapsing to the floor. "Don't. No!"

"I advise you to address me with respect and cease speaking unless spoken to. Do I make myself clear?"

He struggled to his knees. "Fuck. All right. Just–"

"_Crucio_."

***

"Professor Lupin?"

Remus glanced up from his book as the door to the library creaked open and the timid boy stepped through. "I've told you to call me Remus now, Harry," he said pleasantly. "I'm not a professor anymore."

"Right." Harry ran his hand through his messy hair and puffed out his cheeks before exhaling. "Sorry. I keep forgetting." He gave Remus a weak smile. "Could I– are you busy?" He gestured towards the book, which Remus set down on the table next to his chair, face down to hold the page.

"Not at all. Come on in."

Visibly relieved, Harry stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him. "Could I talk to you about something?"

"Certainly." If Remus found it odd that Harry would be coming to him for advice rather than Sirius, as he usually did, he gave no indication of it. The sooner the boy got used to the fact that Remus was here to stay, a fixture in Sirius's life, the better.

Harry dipped his hands halfway into the pockets of his jeans and moved forward. His shuffle morphed into a saunter before Remus's eyes, leaving his mouth dry and his eyes fixed on the boy. "I don't quite know how to say this," confessed Harry, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth.

Remus cleared his throat. "Are you concerned about your OWLs?" he ventured. "It's perfectly normal, you know, but I'm sure if you spend the rest of the year revising and practicing exam questions, you'll be–"

"It's about my dick," blurted Harry.

Remus stopped talking, his mouth hanging open as his gaze flew up to the boy standing before him, filling out his t-shirt in ways Remus hadn't noticed before and watching Remus with interest. "Ah," he croaked at last. "Right. Perhaps your godfather is better suited for this conversation?"

Harry shook his head, his body language shifting as his confidence seemed to grow right before Remus's eyes. "No. Not for this." He paused, wetting his lips. "It's the bite, Professor," he said quietly, raising his hand up and pushing it into the neck of his shirt, exposing a raw, jagged wound. "It's making me different."

Rising slowly from his chair, Remus stared at him. "The bite?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Tell me what it's like," continued Harry, his fingers pausing at the hem of the t-shirt before grasping the material and pulling it slowly over his head. Remus watched him drop it at his feet and had to close his eyes against his own gathering arousal. "Tell me why I've been wanking four times a day since I got attacked. Tell me why my cock is hard _all _the time."

"You're fifteen," Remus managed, swallowing. "That's why. You've never been bitten. You're not–"

"No." Harry shook his head again and stepped forward. "I'm a werewolf, Professor. Just like you. You could bite me yourself if you wanted," he added. "Wouldn't make a difference."

As he came even closer, the scent rolling off him hit Remus in the gut, flooding his senses with young, aroused werewolf, and had it been anyone else, anyone at all, Remus would already have had them pinned to the wall with his cock grinding into theirs. But this was Harry, for God's sake – James's son, Sirius's godson, and no, _no_, this couldn't be right. Something was very wrong here, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "You were bitten?" he whispered, raising his hand and letting hesitant fingers glide down Harry's bare chest even as the horror of his previous dreams gathered in the pit of his stomach. "It was real?"

Harry nodded, reaching for the buttons of Remus's shirt.

"And now you... know what it's like."

"_Want_ to know," Harry corrected him, his lips curving into a sly smile as he gazed up at Remus from under his messy fringe. He shoved Remus back down into the armchair, tearing his shirt open and dragging his fingernails down Remus's chest as he climbed on top of him, straddling his lap.

His lips attacked Remus's neck, and the horror drained from Remus's body, replaced all too quickly by a driving need to have this boy. Now.

"Know what it feels like to get hard all the time; _want_ to know how it feels to do this..."

Tipping his head back and groaning, Remus grabbed the boy by the hips and thrust up against his jeans, working the material over his cock and letting the pleasure spiral through his body. The wound at Harry's neck coloured the corner of Remus's vision, and he focused on it even has he ground his hips up into Harry, shuddering at the feel of Harry's erection pushing against his own and already calculating how quickly they could be rid of the rest of their clothing and Remus could be inside the boy, shoving him down and taking him, letting all his fantasies come true. "Harry," he murmured, clutching the boy to him and grinding hard against him. "_God_."

"Honestly, Remus, this is ridiculous! How do you expect _me _to stop worrying myself sick over Harry when you yourself are always drifting off into these dreams of yours, terrified something has happened to him!"

Remus froze.

"Wake up!"

His eyes were closed. Okay, that was probably a good thing. His mind raced. What had he just said out loud? Oh God.

"Wake _up_, dear!" A solid hand shook his shoulder, and with his heart still hammering in his chest, he reluctantly cracked an eye open to see Molly standing in front of him, a look of exasperation mixed with concern on her face. "Harry is _fine_," she repeated, planting her hands on her hips. "Dumbledore won't let anything happen to him while he's at school, so you can stop moaning over him!"

He stared at her, breathing hard through parted lips, before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. "Right." He coughed. "You're right, of course. I'm being foolish." He gave her an apologetic smile. "You know how it is."

She sighed. "Yes, dear, I do," she said quietly, giving his shoulder another squeeze. "I worry about him all the time." Her face fell into a frown and she twisted her hands in her apron for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and facing Remus again. "But it's not doing any of us any good, is it? We have to trust that Dumbledore will keep him safe." She headed back towards the library door.

"Have you seen Sirius?" he called after her, pushing himself to his feet and scrubbing at his face.

She turned at the door, frowning. "Well, he's out of my way for once, so I can't say I've bothered looking for him today," she said, pressing her lips together. "But I suppose he'll be upstairs somewhere." She gave him one more sympathetic look. "Get some rest, Remus. You look as though you haven't slept in a month!"

He nodded wearily at her, waiting for her to leave before following her out the door and dashing into the foyer and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Padfoot!" he called when he got to the third level, panting a bit and pausing to wait for a reply.

"What? Up here."

Remus ran up the final flight of stairs to find Sirius just backing out of Buckbeak's room on the top landing, well away from Molly's eyes and ears, bowing low and closing the door behind him. Catching him off guard, Remus slammed Sirius up against the wall of the hallway, rattling a portrait of a Black family ancestor hanging above them, and pressed his body in close. He was still thrumming with the thrill of the dream and couldn't even stop to analyse it yet or worry about what it might mean. All the wolf wanted was to fuck.

Sirius laughed in surprise, grabbing fistfuls of Remus's shirt and pushing him back just enough to look at him and appraise the situation, his eyes sweeping over Remus, before he quirked his mouth up and pulled Remus back in again, crushing their mouths together and threading his fingers in Remus's hair. "Right here?" he murmured, still smiling against Remus's lips, and his fingers were ripping at Remus's shirt before Remus could even answer, reminding him all too much of his dream and the way Harry's deft fingers had done the same thing, digging into his chest and –

He groaned, fumbling with Sirius's belt and his own and tearing their trousers down almost at once, his mouth still hot over Sirius's and his hands desperate for any contact they could get. "Down," he panted, shoving Sirius to the floor before pushing his own trousers down further and pulling his cock out. "Now."

Sirius moaned, falling to his knees in a split second and yanking his trousers off one leg. He barely had time to brace himself on all fours before Remus was on top of him, whispering spells in his ear and shoving fingers inside him, and the wolf nearly howled inside Remus as he felt Sirius's immediate arousal and acquiescence. "Fuck, Moony," groaned Sirius, dropping his head between his shoulders, his ripped shirt still hanging off his torso and his hair falling over his face, and Remus could barely stand it; he grasped his cock at the base and pushed forward, lodging it inside Sirius and draping himself over Sirius's back.

He couldn't stand to stop or wait; he just started thrusting, shoving himself against Sirius in a battering rhythm, the threadbare carpet burning their knees and obscene groans filling the landing. The images from the dream filtered back into his mind, and Remus gasped at the thought of having Harry underneath him like this, young and strong and filled with werewolf stamina and desire. He could show Harry what it was like to fuck like a werewolf, help him experience that driving, primal need that accompanied the rise of the moon each month, ensure he understood the ways his body would react and his blood would heat. With a choked grunt, he grabbed Sirius's hips and stilled, pouring himself into him with his cock jerking and his body alive with crushing shudders.

Quickly, he sat back on his heels and pulled Sirius into his lap, grabbing for Sirius's dick and fisting him roughly. "God, fuck," Sirius bit out, and it didn't take long before he doubled over, coming in Remus's fist as his arse convulsed around Remus's softening cock. They collapsed to the floor, slumping against the wall in a tangle of limbs and dust, breathing heavily through reddened, parted lips.

They were silent for several long seconds before Sirius angled his head towards Remus and raised his eyebrows.

"So," he panted, "that was new."

Remus let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes, his mind a muddle of need and shame and complete, utter bewilderment. He ran a hand over his face and then up through his hair, pausing at the back of his head and finally glancing at Sirius. "I have to talk to you," he said.

***

**Phase 2: Accusation**

"Your mind is weak." The cold voice floated once more into the monster's ear, and he sat up straighter in his cell, sniffing the air.

"It's takin' time," he said through gritted teeth. Christ, it wasn't as though he'd ever done this before. A little patience wouldn't be out of line. "Told you – he's stronger than the boy. Harder to get in."

"But you _have_ infiltrated his mind by now, have you not?"

"Yeah, think so. Hard to tell from here, see, with the way it works, but yeah, won' be long."

"Won't be long." The cold voice fell flat and then silent, and a sound like impatient fingernails tapping on a wand filled the cell. "My patience has its limits."

The monster huffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Look, I told you I could do it, yeah? Give me some fuckin' credit. I'll get you the boy – bleedin' and mangled and–"

"I need the boy alive," sneered the cold voice. "Mangle him as you wish, but if he is unable to complete his task, you are the one who will pay the price."

The lock clicked back in place and footsteps faded from the cell. The monster sat back against the cement walls and smiled. "You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you," he muttered to himself, before closing his eyes and focusing his mind once more on his prize prey, the one man whose flesh had ripped so nicely and with such satisfaction in his mouth so many years ago.

***

"So, okay. Let me get this straight."

Remus sat on the bed, elbows on his knees and his hands folded in an attempt to appear calmer and more collected than he felt.

"He's a _werewolf_?"

Remus nodded wearily. "In the dreams, yes."

He glanced up to find Sirius scratching at his jaw, his brow creased. "And he– I mean you–" He paused, dropping his hand and looking directly at Remus. "You're fucking him."

"In the _dreams_, Padfoot," said Remus irritably as Sirius began pacing again. "I'm not _actually_ fucking him. He's fifteen, for God's sake." He dropped his gaze to the floor again, not able to look at Sirius as he said it, because it wasn't quite true; the desire that had welled up inside him in every one of the dreams couldn't be brushed aside by the hollow comfort that he had never actually touched the boy.

"Good," said Sirius, interrupting Remus's thoughts. He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Remus, arms crossed over his chest. "Because you know I'd have to kill you if you ever touched that kid."

Remus jerked his head up, locking his gaze on Sirius. "What?"

"He's my godson, Moony," said Sirius, his voice harsh. "He's _mine_ to protect."

"Yes, well, thank you for that reminder that his parents never gave the honour to me, or even the pair of us, for that matter," muttered Remus. "I'm quite aware of who he is, and what kind of protection he needs."

"Are you?" challenged Sirius. "Then how do you explain these dreams?"

"I _can't_," said Remus, rising from the bed and facing Sirius, his tone cold, "which is why I've told you about them. Silly me, but I thought you might actually wish to help." He tilted his head to the side and glared.

"Help? Yeah, hey, whatever gets you hard," Sirius shot back. "If you're going to be waking up from dreams about my godson getting down on all fours for you, and then coming to find _me_ to fuck through that landing up there–" he flung his finger towards the bedroom door – "then sure, I'll just go with it, shall I? Always helping a bloke out, that's me."

Remus breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to remain calm. "I'm sorry about that," he admitted. "I shouldn't have done that, and maybe I shouldn't have told you about any of this, but I thought you'd want to know, especially since–"

"Oh, what?" Sirius waved his arms around, finally planting them on his hips as he continued to shout. "Especially since you'll probably do it again tonight, and every other time we shag? I'll have to wonder if it's the thought of Harry's cock that's got you all hot and bothered, or if it's actually me, so next time you want to–"

"_Especially since_ I'm not the first person in this house to have unexplained visions!" shouted Remus.

Sirius fell silent, opening his mouth as though to respond but then closing it again. His nostrils flared as he stared at Remus.

Remus watched him carefully, waiting for it to sink in.

"Arthur and the snake," Sirius muttered to himself after a long moment, his face melting from rage to concern. "You– but that's Harry's connection to–" He paused. "You've heard what Dumbledore says about that. It can't be what–"

"No," said Remus slowly, "it can't be, but what else explains it?"

Sirius continued to gape at him. "You– okay. Wait just a second." He rubbed at his forehead. "You're having erotic dreams about my godson, and–"

"Would you quit calling him that?" snapped Remus.

"Well, he _is_."

"Yes, I'm aware, but that makes him sound so– so–"

"Young?"

Remus sank back down onto the bed, his shoulders sagging. "Yes."

"Fine." Sirius paused. "So, you're having erotic dreams about _Harry_, which, by the way, is really, supremely not on, okay, and you want to justify it by blaming fucking Voldemort? I just, look, are you really–"

"Don't say it like that, Christ." Remus let his head fall forward as he stared at the floor. "Look," he tried again after a few seconds' silence, "I only told you about it because I thought you could help me figure it out. There's got to be a reason, or something I can do to block–"

"So, you want lessons from Snape now, too?" said Sirius nastily, narrowing his eyes. "The pair of you, running off to bend over in the fucking dungeons for that bastard, letting him–"

"Padfoot!" cried Remus. "God, what are you on about?" He spread his hands and glared at Sirius with his mouth hanging open. "I don't want to run off anywhere, and certainly not anywhere with Snape. And I'm quite sure Harry is not harbouring any secret passion for the man, either. What's got into you?"

Sirius frowned, running a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath.

"Look, maybe it's not a bad idea. Not Snape," he added when Sirius threatened to interrupt again, "but, I don't know." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Maybe looking into some Occlumency wouldn't hurt. Something's going on in my head," he said quietly, feeling his muscles tense even as he said it, loath as he was to admit to Sirius or to himself that this was something other than mere dreams, "and spells that mess with people's heads are never good ones." He raised his eyes to Sirius again, giving him a pleading look.

With a dramatic sigh, Sirius moved back towards him and slung an arm around his shoulders, sagging against his side. "Okay." He kissed Remus's temple, smoothing back his hair with his free hand. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. We'll look into it."

***

After three weeks spent rifling through every tome in the Black family library, however, the two of them were no closer to finding an explanation or a solution for Remus's visions. For his part, Remus couldn't say he was surprised; apart from the general entries on Legilimency and Occlumency in Wizarding encyclopedias, there was nothing in any Dark Arts book about the connection between Voldemort and Harry, after all, so why would there be anything about Remus's connection to... whatever, or whomever, he was connected to?

If he was connected to anyone at all, which was looking increasingly unlikely.

The full moon was near now, and Remus had been jumpy all day. His skin itched and his heart seemed to be beating too fast in his chest – all normal symptoms, but also symptoms that felt more pronounced this month than at any time in the past. Unless he was imagining that.

The visions had been hitting him sporadically, despite his best efforts to pinpoint a pattern. Some came at night, when he was tangled in the sheets with Sirius, and woke him with cold sweat beading on his forehead; others came in broad daylight, when he was stacking books in the library or smoothing out new intelligence maps from Kingsley across the dining room table. At those times, he would be on his feet one minute, busying himself with his task, and then blindsided by a vision the next, so real it felt as though a Portkey had jerked him from one location to another, spreading an entirely new reality before him. When he came to again, he would find himself back at his original location in the house, sprawled in a chair or, in one case, flat out on the floor, with his head pounding and no idea how much time had passed.

It was really bloody disconcerting.

The scenes his mind could conjure varied as well, but they all had two common themes: Harry was always there, and Harry either already was a werewolf, or he was in the violent process of becoming one. Remus could never quite identify the monster who attacked Harry in the visions, but he had no doubts it had to be the same one who had haunted his dreams since he was six years old. There was only one werewolf out there with that much power over him and now, if the visions were to be believed, over Harry.

_But the visions are not to be believed_, he reminded himself as he put the last of the books away. They weren't real. Harry was at school; Harry was fine. He would never have to undergo the pain of a transformation or the horror of not being able to remember what he had done the night before while in wolf form. It had to be stress, Remus reasoned, born of his understandable concern for the boy and the danger he was in from Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"Thirsty?"

Remus looked up to find Sirius hovering in the library doorway, holding out a steaming goblet. He sighed, rising and moving to the door before taking the drink. "Thanks," he murmured, scowling into the frothy mess. Severus Snape was a dreadful man for many reasons, but his potion-making skills were not among them. Every time Remus had to down this swill from the local apothecary, he cursed himself and Snape alike for losing him his only access to properly brewed Wolfsbane. When he was done, he set the goblet down on a nearby table and glanced back at Sirius, who was giving him an odd look. "What?"

"Nothing." A practiced, innocent smile tugged at the corners of Sirius's mouth. Remus eyed him.

"I know that look," he muttered, "and it's not nothing."

"Yeah? What look is that, then?" Sirius sauntered towards him, wrapping one hand around his waist.

"No," he said feebly even as Sirius pressed up against him, his lips already brushing the shell of Remus's ear.

"Haven't said a word," breathed Sirius.

"No, but you want to. You're going to," protested Remus, but he arched back against Sirius despite himself.

"What do I want?" he murmured, his teeth nibbling at Remus's earlobe, and with a low groan, Remus turned in Sirius's arms and pushed him back up against the wall beside the door, rattling the nearby bookshelf. He pinned Sirius's arms to his sides and brushed his jaw up against Sirius's.

"You want Moony tonight," he whispered, fighting down a sly grin at the shudder that passed through Sirius's body at the words.

Sirius curled his fingers into the waist of Remus's trousers, hauling him in closer. "Maybe I do," he breathed. "So what's wrong with that? We play safe," he added with a nip at Remus's bottom lip, nodding over at the empty goblet.

"_Safe_ is not precisely the word I'd use for it," said Remus, rolling his eyes, but it was already evening, and he could tell that his body was going to betray him. Sirius knew it as well; that was why he always waited until this time of day to ask for what he wanted.

"Okay," said Sirius, his body sagging into the wall as Remus squeezed his fingers around Sirius's pinned wrists. "Let's be dangerous, then. Safety's overrated, anyway." His voice dropped to a purr as he wriggled under Remus's body. "Want you," he murmured. "Come upstairs; I'll get you ready." He sought Remus's mouth for a deep kiss, the power of it spreading throughout Remus's body even as he felt his blood begin to shift in anticipation of the moon.

"Not me who needs to get ready," he panted when they parted, releasing his hold on Sirius, and Sirius laughed, grabbing Remus's arm and leading him up the stairs.

It was a clear night, a warm night, and locked in their bedroom with all the precautionary spells and wards in place, the two of them tried to put Remus's strange visions aside for the first time in weeks and simply focus on each other. Sirius undressed them both slowly, pressing Remus down to the bed and moving his mouth over every part of him, tasting and touching until Remus could barely feel the imminent tremor in his bones. They kissed, long and slow, and as the moon approached, Remus moved between Sirius's legs, his fingers slick with lubricant, and began to push inside him. He opened Sirius carefully, waiting until he was rocking back against Remus's hand and moaning, one fist clenched in the bars of the headboard, before adding another finger.

When he finally withdrew, leaving Sirius panting on the bed, Remus slid to the floor and closed his eyes, the white light of the moon shining in through the thin curtains.

That innocent beam of light wracked his body, and he distantly heard the howl of pain that ripped through him as his bones began to crack and reform. His vision blurred, his sense of smell and taste were cut off and his hearing clouded as the wolf rearranged his face. Lengthening fingers and toes reformed his knuckles, and the coarse hair spouting from every follicle in his body felt like a million tiny razor blades slicing through him. He choked down a cry of pain and tried to calm his panicking mind – God, every month, every fucking month, it was always the same – and focus on what was to come. Sirius was still naked on the bed, waiting for him. Sirius would help his body relax in another few minutes and then soothe him after.

Sirius, yes. Sirius would do anything for him.

But in the middle of the change, as Remus's vision bled back in and the animal's greyscale overtook his normal sight, Remus narrowed his eyes to see not only Sirius on the bed, one arm flung over his eyes and his body coiled with tension as he listened to the change, but another figure as well. There, just there, on the other side of the bed. Remus squinted.

"Harry?" he tried to ask, but only a hollow cry escaped the wolf's lips.

The boy moved around the bed to join Remus on the floor, kneeling before him in torn jeans and no shirt. His pale torso shivered in the light breeze from the window, and he reached forward to grab at the fur on Remus's shoulder. Leaning in close, Remus heard only two words leave the boy's mouth and float into Remus's ear. "_Bite me_."

Fully transformed now, he reared back on his hind legs, startled, and stared down at the boy, his mouth already salivating at the prospect.

"Want to go through this with you," continued Harry, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and lifting his cock out. He began to stroke it lazily as he gazed up at Remus. "You wouldn't have to be alone. Think about it, Professor. We could transform together. You'd show me how, show me what to do so it doesn't hurt as much."

Remus blinked and shook his head, but the wolf's jaws had a mind of their own, already beginning to snap as he gazed down at Harry.

"God, yes. Look at you. You want it, don't you?" Harry sucked in a breath, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth and increasing his pace on his cock. "I think about you, you know, every time I'm alone. And now I can be just like you, Professor. Just like you."

Remus's body wanted nothing more than to surge forward, pin the boy down and maul him, feel his skin tear and blood fill the wolf's mouth. All he needed to do was pounce, and the boy would be his. All he needed to do was –

"All right, Moony?" a gentle voice called to him from the bed, and turning abruptly, Remus found Sirius still spread out, propped up on one elbow and watching him intently with a look of concern on his face.

When Remus turned back to the floor, Harry was gone. His mind struggled to process it all, but under the influence of the potion and in wolf form, he didn't have all his faculties about him. All he felt was confusion and disappointment, but the thought of joining the man on the bed quickly overtook his senses. With a low growl, he crawled up onto the bed and swiped at Sirius with one paw, tearing the skin a bit until he complied and turned over, breathless and wide-eyed.

"God, yes," murmured Sirius, pushing himself up on his hands and knees and dropping his head between his shoulders.

_Mine_, was all the wolf could think as he stabbed forward, shoving inside the man and lodging his front paws over the muscled back underneath him. The wild groans that filled the room fuelled the animal's lust, and he began to thrust forward with all his power. The shadows of the room fell over them, highlighted by streaks of moonlight as Moony found a rhythm, pressing Sirius down to the mattress and fucking him without restraint, surging inside him and relishing his moans of pleasure. As he came, locked over Sirius's back and pulsing waves of wolf semen into him, he was blindsided by another image of Harry, naked and writhing underneath him like this, taking his cock even as his shoulder bled from a fresh wolf bite.

_No_.

He pulled out when it was safe, sitting back on his haunches as Sirius panted underneath him, rolling over onto his back and grinning like a fool. His belly was sticky with come, and he laughed as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

"Fuck, Moony," he muttered fondly, before pushing himself off the bed and staggering to the bathroom. "Jesus fuck, do I love you."

As the sound of his groaning laughter faded away behind the bathroom door, Remus sank back down onto the carpet and curled up in a ball, his heart hammering and his vision blurred with the pulsing thoughts of young flesh and fresh blood.

***

Newly released from his confinement, the monster flexed his meaty fingers and breathed in the scent of mown grass and decaying flowers on the wind. He had finally made the old bastard proud.

"You have consistently and relentlessly entered the werewolf's mind," the cold voice had confirmed to him when unlocking the cell. "That much is clear in the boy. I can see it myself."

"The boy?" The monster scratched his belly, licking obscenely at his lips. "He havin' dreams 'bout his filthy old professor, then, just like you thought?"

The cold voice hesitated. "Something like that. It is not your concern. You have performed your duty, penetrating the werewolf's mind. Leave the boy to me."

"Yes, sir. Told you I would. Sick bastard, that Lupin, though, ain't he? Fuck me." The monster shook his head, laughing low in his belly. "Even I never thought of some of that stuff, what was already in his head."

The cold voice ignored him. "You must continue it, and press him further. The power to visualise the boy as a werewolf is one thing; the power to actually mutilate him is another." The voice paused as one pale, bony finger trailed over a wand. "See to it that he will bite the boy himself."

"Yes, sir." The monster grinned, rubbing at his grizzled face. He hadn't had this much fun with Remus Lupin since the man had been six years old.

***

**Phase 3: Penetration**

Remus stopped telling Sirius about the details of the dreams, and Sirius stopped asking.

Their research had proven nothing, and every time Remus had tried to talk about Harry, Sirius's shoulders had shot up and he'd thrown Remus a cold look. Harry became the elephant in the room for much of the winter, the one name neither of them dared mention. The only thing Remus could think about whenever he visualised Harry was the memory-imprint of the boy peeling his clothes off and saying unspeakable things to Remus, things that kept Remus hard and aching in the middle of the night. But Sirius didn't want to hear about any of that, and Remus couldn't blame him, really.

"Only one more idea," Sirius said to him the last time they had spent the afternoon in the library. He threw another book aside, rubbing his eyes and pressing his lips together.

Remus glanced up.

"Dumbledore." Sirius shrugged. "Visions in your mind... He'd want to know, wouldn't he?" But even Sirius didn't look convinced, and Remus took advantage of that.

"Says the man who wants to go for daily walks as Padfoot and not tell Dumbledore," he pointed out. "The man who broke into Hogwarts as a convict without telling Dumbledore. The man who wishes Harry would give up Occlumency lessons with Snape and not tell Dumbledore. The man who–"

"All _right_." Sirius glared at him. "I get it."

Remus tried to laugh. "_Dumbledore_, Christ. I still remember the time in sixth year he took me aside and told me it was perfectly normal to fancy one's mates, if they were reasonably fit and 'stimulated your mind,' or something like that." He cringed at the memory. "God."

"You _did_ spend an awful lot of time that year staring at my arse."

"Because I was already shoving myself inside of it on a regular basis, you might recall," Remus shot back, laughing, but a moment later he sighed, thumbing the gilded edges of the volume in his hands. "What, exactly, do you suggest I tell him?" he muttered. "That every time I fall asleep I picture Harry's naked body? That I am being held hostage by dreams of fucking that poor kid blind?" His tone sharpened. "That I can't even–"

"Stop." Sirius bowed his head, his chest heaving. "Just– stop. I can't–" He breathed in deeply, clenching his jaw. "Forget it. You're right: no Dumbledore. This is just– something you have to–"

"–deal with myself." Remus closed his eyes as Sirius left the room, his heart thudding in his chest and his stomach churning.

If there were no answers in any Dark Arts book and no answers from either his own experiences and expertise or Sirius's, then Remus could draw only one conclusion: he had conjured those images of Harry not because he was possessed or haunted or the victim of a Dark spell, but simply because he wanted to. And that was something neither he nor Sirius were prepared to deal with.

He used the whole mess as an excuse not to visit the packs, putting Dumbledore off and trying to explain to Sirius that it just wasn't in the Order's best interests to sacrifice him at a time like this. In reality, he feared what might happen to him out in the wild. He feared the way the smell of pine and dirt under his fingernails might arouse him, the way the sight of other young men turned into wolves – like the one he imagined in his dreams – might hit too close to home for the new, dark desires he harboured, and he wouldn't be able to control himself if any of them presented him with an opportunity.

***

Remus found Sirius up in his old childhood bedroom one day near Easter, sitting cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by stacks of photographs. Remus leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest to watch for a moment. Sirius's brow was furrowed as he thumbed through the pictures, but a sunbeam streaking in through the high window lit his face in ways that made him look younger and more carefree than he had in some time. Remus found himself smiling as he gazed at him.

"Hey, come look at these," called Sirius softly, not raising his eyes but waving two photos in each of his hands.

"How did you know I was here?" Remus pushed off from the doorframe and walked into the room.

"Please. You're louder than the hippogriff on these floorboards." Sirius glanced over at him at last, smirking, and Remus sat down beside him, folding himself onto the floor to peer at the photos. "Bianca," purred Sirius, the name coming out as a moan, and with a raise of his eyebrows, Remus took one of the photos from him.

He gazed down at a perfectly polished motorcycle, the black leather seat gleaming and the chrome glinting in the afternoon sunlight. A much younger Sirius, wearing worn blue jeans, black boots and a tight t-shirt, sauntered into the photo and swung one leg over the bike, reaching down to adjust his crotch before grabbing the handles and grinning at the camera. Remus nearly lost his breath at the sight. It had been some time since he'd had occasion to recall how beautiful Sirius had been back then, young and reckless and desperate for only two things in his life: riding that bike hard, and riding Remus even harder.

He almost laughed out loud as the comparison crossed his mind. God, those had been the days. He cleared his throat.

"Bianca?"

Sirius tilted his head to the side. "Or Mabel. I forget. Changed it every other week anyway, didn't I?" He grinned, tracing the edges of the photograph with his index finger. "You remember taking this?"

Remus wet his lips, nodding. "Yes. I think I do." He raised his eyes and locked them on Sirius's, both of them grinning like fools. "You and those obscene t-shirts," continued Remus, his fingers coming up to move over Sirius's bicep. "Too tight here–" the fingers moved across to Sirius's chest – "and here. Nearly impossible to peel them off you when necessary."

"You did all right," breathed Sirius, setting the photos down and crawling over to Remus. He leaned in close and brushed his lips over Remus's. "You remember fucking on that thing?" he added, his voice low, and Remus groaned.

"You think I'd ever forget?" he murmured, cupping Sirius's face and drawing him in closer. "Fucking over that bike was your favourite position." He grinned against Sirius's mouth, and Sirius sat back on his heels, laughing.

"Can you blame a bloke?" he asked, his eyes bright, and then his face fell again and he pursed his lips. "You know, I was thinking about it, just going through these photos, and if there's one thing I wish, it's that I could have taken Harry up on her a time or two."

Remus was silent for a moment, the mere mention of Harry's name enough to jolt something sharp and warm through his body. "Oh," he managed after a few seconds. "Right, yes. He would have enjoyed that."

Sirius stared down at the photos scattered around him. "He would have, yeah. Especially since he never got to play with magical stuff like that as a kid. Bet he would have loved flying on that bike with me." His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and Remus stared at him, suddenly assaulted by images putting the two different strands of this conversation together. Visions of both Harry and Sirius crept into his mind, climbing off the bike and wiping sweat from their brows, laughing and punching playfully at each other and running appreciative hands over the sleek chrome and leather, hands that quickly moved from the bike to each other, smoothing over flushed skin and –

He swallowed, forcing the image down, but it wouldn't leave him. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd cupped his hand around Sirius's neck again and drawn him close, kissing him deeply. Sirius groaned against his mouth, parting his lips and letting his tongue slide against Remus's. "Bet he would have loved it," whispered Remus, his lips hot against Sirius's, and Sirius paused for a few agonising seconds, breathing hard and swallowing, before pushing Remus down on his back, wrists flat against the floor on either side of his head.

Straddling him, Sirius leaned down and kissed him again, their mouths crashing together as Sirius's fingers dug into Remus's wrists to hold them in place. "You want to picture him?" breathed Sirius, moving his lips from Remus's mouth to the shell of his ear and whispering fiercely. "You want to think about Harry on my bike, legs spread wide and his arms around my waist, holding on so tight?"

Remus's breathing sped up despite his best efforts to keep the images at bay, and he found himself grinding up against Sirius's body. "God," he muttered. "Yeah, I do."

"Tell me what you're thinking," said Sirius, his mouth still moving steadily over Remus's neck, ear, and jaw line, nibbling at him, panting over him and making him very hard, very fast.

"You'll get pissed off," said Remus with a forced laugh, but he couldn't help but say it; he didn't want to have another fight over this.

Sirius pulled back, sitting up over Remus's body with his hands planted over Remus's chest, his eyes locked on Remus's face. Slowly, he began to shake his head, his tongue wetting his lips as his expression shifted to something Remus had never quite seen before. "No," he murmured, reaching down to unbutton Remus's shirt with careful precision, one button popping slowly through each hole. "This time I want to hear it."

Remus arched his back, pushing up into Sirius's hands as they smoothed over Remus's bare chest and stomach. He closed his eyes and let the images overtake him, breathing hard as he began to talk. "Thinking about him with you," he breathed, "you in that leather jacket and those tight jeans you used to wear, and he'd be– he'd be behind you, holding on, his hands over your chest and his– his lips at the back of your neck."

Sirius's mouth trailed down Remus's stomach, licking at the dips around his muscles and moving his hands over the hair on Remus's chest and lower belly, brushing his nipples and making Remus moan. When he reached Remus's trousers, Sirius paused, taking the fabric between his teeth and tugging lightly, glancing up to hold Remus's gaze.

"Christ," moaned Remus, as Sirius smirked, his hands moving down to replace his mouth and slide Remus's zip down, opening his trousers and pushing them slowly down his hips.

"Keep talking," breathed Sirius, his mouth hot over Remus's hip bone and upper thigh.

"You'd be so hard just from knowing he was there behind you, flying through the air like that, feeling him pressed up against you, and just being on that bike at all always made you hard, but this, this would be different, because it'd be Harry's first time, first ride, and you'd want it to be so good for him, something he'd, _God_, he'd never forget, the wind on his skin and the– the way you could steer that piece of metal through anything." All the rides he'd ever taken with Sirius on that bike roared to life in Remus's mind, all the sensations and eroticism of the flight and the feel of Sirius's body against him flooded through him again, even as he spoke about Harry. "And when you landed, you'd– you'd– oh, Jesus. Oh God."

Sirius lifted Remus's cock out of his pants and slid his lips up the shaft, his fingers and tongue moving lightly, a barely-there touch that had Remus writhing on the floor of the bedroom and desperately trying to push up for more contact. "Keep talking," insisted Sirius, catching Remus's eye again before flattening his tongue out and licking up Remus's cock, flat and wide and oh so wet.

Remus moaned, his hands flying to his forehead and pressing against his fevered skin. "When you landed," he whispered, "you'd rip all that leather off him and fling him around, shoving him up hard against that bike, and he'd be young and perfect and maybe nobody'd ever had him before, maybe he'd be new, untouched, but sitting on that bike with it vibrating like that, and having his arms wrapped around you, feeling your skin under your shirt in the air, it would've made him so hard, so ready for you, and you– God, you'd–"

Sirius's lips slid over the head of Remus's cock, wet pressure overwhelming him, and he paused and panted, the fantasy and reality crashing together in his mind. Sirius let his thumb and two fingers move up Remus's shaft while his mouth moved down, meeting in the middle and then each shifting direction, a concentrated effort that made Remus see white behind his eyes. "I'd what?" breathed Sirius on the upstroke, before licking at Remus's dick again and swallowing him down.

"You'd fuck him," Remus choked out. "You'd– oh, God– you'd spread him open and get him ready, and you wouldn't– you wouldn't take your clothes off, just unzip and lift your dick out, big and hard and just, just–" He paused to swallow as his spine began to tingle, his orgasm approaching fast. "You'd push inside him, inside _Harry_, and you shouldn't, you're not supposed to want him, but he's begging you and pushing back to meet you, his fingers gripping that leather seat, and he wants you so much, God, there's nothing– nothing you can do, you just have to fuck him, have to know what it's like, and you–"

Sirius doubled his efforts, one hand planted on Remus's stomach now while the other slid up and down his dick, his mouth tight around Remus and his head bobbing rhythmically. Remus felt the curls of arousal peak in his body, a swift rush that threatened to pull him under, but he kept talking, kept the words tumbling out.

"He comes all over the seat, all over the side of the bike, and he's sobbing and shaking and you've got your arms around him, telling him it's okay, whispering in his ear that he's good, he's brilliant, and he's clenching around you, so tight and hot that you can't stand it anymore, and you– you– God, you come inside him, pouring into him so hard, just clutching at his body and coming, coming, the first man maybe, the first inside him, and you – _Oh_." His own orgasm ripped out of him and flooded Sirius's mouth, and he couldn't say another word; he could only freeze on the spot, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut and all the energy in his body rushing forth. He groaned and pounded his fist on the floor, arching his hips up to jerk once more in Sirius's mouth before he floated back down, panting and opening his eyes to see Sirius lifting his lips away and wiping them with his hand.

"God, you fucking pervert," Sirius was muttering, tearing his own jeans open and hauling his dick out, and Remus saw him glance over at the discarded photos again, taking in the image of that bloody bike, and Remus knew he was imagining just the scenario Remus had outlined: Harry folded over the side of the thing, panting and flushed and covered in come while Sirius took him from behind. He fisted himself quickly, still staring at the photo until his face flushed and his lips dried out and then, only then, did he move his eyes back to Remus, where they glittered down at him.

"Come on," whispered Remus, pushing himself up on his elbows and letting his unbuttoned shirt fall to his sides as he watched Sirius's dick disappear in his fist and then push back through again. "Do it."

With his face crumpling and a deep groan rumbling up from his chest, Sirius slid his fist one more time over his cock and began to spurt over Remus's chest and stomach, his head thrown back and his entire body shuddering. "Harry," he whispered. "God, fuck." When he was done, he sagged down on top of Remus, still straddling him and panting as his hands dropped to his sides. He opened his eyes and peeked through his dark fringe, holding Remus's gaze for several long seconds. "Christ," he muttered at last.

Still panting himself, Remus could only nod, licking his lips and turning his head to the side as he collapsed back down to the floor. "Yeah."

"We, uh. That was–"

"Yeah."

"I don't– I mean, I don't know if we should–"

"Yeah. No. We shouldn't."

Sirius climbed off Remus at last and fell down beside him on the floor, sprawling out and kicking at him playfully with one leg. "Okay. Well, let's just, uh, not do that again, maybe."

"Right." Remus ran a hand over his face, and then turned his head to the side to glance at Sirius.

***

They did, though.

Enacting fantasies about Harry quickly became their favourite pastime during sex, a development that Remus found alarming but unable to control or stop.

The dreams or visions – whatever they were – slowly took over his life, sometimes seeping into his head at night while he slept and other times in the middle of the day when, like the time Molly had found him in the library, they would assault him and use the currents of his mind to play out every imaginable type of sordid fantasy. He would jolt back to consciousness feeling sick to his stomach and more aroused than he could remember, and trying to reconcile those two reactions was nearly driving him mad.

At the same time, though, on the days and nights the visions didn't appear, Remus found he couldn't accept their absence. Instead of waiting for them to come to him, he began to do something else entirely: he went looking for them, and inventing them himself when they didn't materialise.

Sex took on a new urgency for both him and Sirius, and before long, all they needed was one glance from one to the other and whispered words like, _Chained to the wall_, or _In the Quidditch shed_, and they would have to fight each other up the stairs, tearing their clothes off as they went and barely remembering to hope that they had the house to themselves. The filth poured out of their mouths once they were naked or, at least, once they had shoved enough clothes aside to reach the parts they wanted, and together they sank into their fantasies of Harry.

Their imaginations put the boy through every scenario possible – from the standard image of him pinned to the bed with a cock in his arse and another in his mouth, to the more inventive scene of him working as a rent boy at the Hog's Head with two older customers taking turns passing him between them and then abandoning him on the bed, sprawled out and dazed, to clean the filth off his body himself.

With each one, blinding orgasms overtook Remus's rational mind, pushing aside all the protests he should have had as a teacher, a mentor, and as one of the best friends of the boy's parents. He was sickened and aroused by what they were doing, but he rationalised it to himself with the thought that so long as he maintained control of his fantasy life where Harry was concerned, he could maintain control of the dreams and visions.

***

"Tie him up," whispered Remus one afternoon as they enacted a new scene, crawling up Sirius's body and covering him, breathing over every inch of his skin. "Gryffindor ties, what do you think? I could be his naughty professor and you could be–" he paused, wetting his lips – "I don't know, the escaped convict chasing him?"

Sirius groaned, pushing his hips up against Remus's body and writhing under the onslaught of words. "Bind his wrists to the headboard with his own Gryffindor tie? God." He dug his fingernails into Remus's back, pressing Remus's mouth to his neck through the curtain of black hair.

"Strip his clothes off," Remus murmured. "Just lay him bare, tied to the headboard, till he's hard and begging for us."

"I'd get him first," growled Sirius, dragging his nails over Remus's back.

"Yeah? You first, me second?" Remus twisted his hips, catching Sirius's prick against his thigh and pushing down. "Think of how dirty he'd be after that."

"God, yes. And his naughty professor could make him touch himself, yeah?"

"While the convict watches?" A wave of pleasure shot through Remus's body. "Oh, I like that. If he didn't behave himself for me, letting me do what I wanted, I'd threaten to sic the nasty, perverted convict on him, hm?" He rotated his hips again, dragging his cock against Sirius's.

"Make him touch himself, God," groaned Sirius, working himself up into a string of rambling words, his eyes shut and his lips parted. "Like– oh, God, he loved it when I did that. Loved when– Christ, he looks so incredible when he comes." Sirius began to move faster, panting and pushing his hands through Remus's hair as his cock ground up into Remus's. "A perfect little fucking angel, spread out like that for me, debauched and embarrassed and covered in come."

Remus's eyes widened as he felt Sirius stiffen under him already, his cock spurting in quick jerks between their bodies, and dammit, they were barely even into the beginning of the fantasy.

"Got to do it again," Sirius was mumbling, his eyes shut and his face flushed as Remus pushed himself off and stared down at him. "Got to see that again, that perfect fucking face when he comes, just–"

"Again?" whispered Remus, his throat drying out. That wasn't what Sirius meant. He was still in the fantasy; that was all. He was –

Sirius's entire body stilled, his lips clamping into a thin line and his eyes crinkling around the edges where they sealed themselves shut. Remus stared at him, almost able to see the wheels churning in Sirius's head.

"_Padfoot_?"

The bedroom hummed with silence punctuated only by heavy breath and racing thoughts, and Remus felt a cool trickle like ice down his spine.

"No."

Sirius's eyes slowly opened, as his chest heaved.

"I– oh my God." Remus's mouth fell open. "How many times?" he asked quietly, shifting away from Sirius on the bed and wrapping one fist in the sheets to keep himself from punching something.

Sirius unstuck his lips, slowly pushing his tongue out and wetting them before swallowing. "Just– twice," he murmured.

Remus paused, his heart hammering in his chest. "Please tell me he wasn't any younger than he is now."

"Not– by much." Sirius looked away.

"I–" Remus didn't know if that was good news or bad. "When?" he croaked.

"I– look, it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything you need to– I mean, can we just forget it ever–"

"_When_?"

Sirius fell silent again at the note of fury in Remus's voice. "Christmas," he mumbled.

Remus stared at him. Christmas. When the dreams started. Fighting the barrage of emotions tumbling through him, from rage to betrayal to cold, hard fear, he forced the only words out of his mouth that he could focus on, the only words that mattered right now. "Did he want it?" His voice broke on the last syllable.

Sirius's eyes widened. "Did he– what? _Yes_. Oh my God, okay, no, don't you dare think that about me. Don't you fucking _dare_, Moony." He grabbed a corner of the sheets and angrily wiped the come from his dick and his stomach.

"What am I supposed to think?" said Remus coldly. Christmas. _God_. When Harry was upset about Arthur and the visions. When he was so vulnerable. "What– Christ." He rubbed at his eyes. "What happened?"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his eyes haunted and far away. "I just– I don't know. I didn't mean to. I didn't– go looking for it." He glanced at Remus. "I _didn't_."

Remus was silent.

"I found him in one of the old rooms upstairs one day when I was looking for Kreacher. Wanted some privacy, I guess, away from Ron in their room, and–" He closed his eyes. "He was having a right proper wank, all right? Jeans pulled open, doubled over on the edge of the bed, hand just flying on his–" He coughed.

"And you did what?" Remus tilted his head to the side, still trying to contain his fury.

"I didn't do anything," said Sirius, his eyes pleading. "I fucking swear. But I also–" he sighed, scrubbing at his face again – "didn't leave."_  
_  
"You–"

"I watched him," said Sirius quietly, resigning himself, it seemed, to just telling the story and getting it done with. "He saw me; he knew I was there. It wasn't a secret. His eyes widened at first and he fumbled a bit, trying to jump up and zip it and not fall off the bed all at once." His face softened as he spoke, almost fading into a reminiscent grin. "But then it was like it occurred to him that he didn't have to stop, didn't have to be embarrassed, and he... kept going. Slowed down a bit, and his face was bright fucking red." He gave a short, blunt laugh, before rubbing his hand over his forehead and grimacing again. "I couldn't make myself leave. I don't know what the fuck it was, Moony, and I never told you about it because, Christ, how do I explain it? But I couldn't leave. I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it, staying far away from him, but I didn't leave."

"So you watched your godson wank."

Sirius glanced over at Remus, narrowing his eyes. "Don't do that," he began, shaking his head in warning. "Don't you dare fucking say it like that. What were we _just_ doing, you hypocritical fucking–"

"That was a fantasy!" roared Remus. "That was completely different, and if you– if you–"

"Yeah, completely different." Sirius snorted back a laugh before turning hard eyes on Remus and crawling towards him on the bed. "I watched him wank," he said slowly. "He watched me watch him, too, and he fucking got off on it. You should have seen him, Moony, clenching that hand around his dick and calling my name out when he came. It was fucking exhilarating, and he was going to freak out after, so I went over to him and kissed him on the forehead and told him it was normal, it was all right."

"And then what?" cried Remus, pushing him away. "You pulled your own dick out and wanked on his face? He's fifteen, Sirius!"

"I fucking left, that's what. I left, and I found you, and I fucked you into the mattress, you miserable fucking prick, and this is why I didn't tell you. _This_. Every single time you've ever had the choice of thinking, _Wow, Padfoot is quite the upstanding citizen_, or thinking, _Christ, Padfoot is a completely immoral piece of shit_, guess which one you choose?" He pushed himself off the bed and stormed across the room, rooting through the dresser for his clothes. "Story of my fucking life."

It had to be a dream. Why couldn't _this_ be the dream, the nightmare? Remus squeezed his eyes closed and begged himself to wake up.

_Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._

When he opened his eyes again, Sirius had pulled his jeans on and was staring out the window, his face shuttered but his chest heaving. It wasn't a dream. Rising from the bed and gathering his own clothes from where they were strewn about the floor, Remus strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

**Phase 4: Decimation**

Out in the forests up north, where the wind bit at a man's back and the wretched grass would slice an ankle open if a bloke was dumb enough to lose his boots, the monster trudged back to camp. He inhaled the scent of the wild and relished his freedom once more, but he was careful to avoid cursing that damn cold voice and its orders, even in his mind.

One could never be sure who else might be prowling around in there.

"You look like shit," the man beside him was saying, glancing sideways at the monster and appraising him with disdain. "Christ, you really been down with them wizards so long? You smell like a fuckin' candy cane." The man laughed, swinging a beefy arm hard into the monster's back.

"Shut the fuck up," the monster shot back, catching the arm and twisting it backwards, stopping just shy of the snap. "You don't know nothin' 'bout what's goin' on down there."

"Oh yeah, you my fuckin' politician now, gonna come back up here and tell us what's what? Fuck you, Greyback." The man yanked his arm loose and glared at the monster. "You give me one fuckin' reason not to tear your arms off your body right fuckin' now." He folded his tree-trunk arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes, and the monster paused in his step.

Digging a piece of food out of the back of his teeth and chewing for a moment, he spat it out on the man's boots before leaning in close and letting a slow, nasty grin spread across his face. "You remember every wolf you bit?" he asked, his voice rough as a gravel road.

"What? Yeah. I dunno. Who fuckin' cares?"

"I got us a weapon," the monster continued, continuing up the hill without waiting for the man to follow. He did, but reluctantly.

"You got fists and a wolf in your blood, you don't need no other weapon," the man muttered, but the monster only shook his head.

"Oh, but this one's good, mate. Never seen anythin' like it." He glanced sideways again, working his mouth. "Learned it down south. There's a spell, yeah? Breaks into the mind of the one you bit." He tapped at his temple and began to laugh deep in his belly. "You can do whatever you fuckin' want to him in there, and he don't even got a clue."

The man stopped walking and stared at him for a long moment, before a slow grin spread across his face as well. "No shit."

"Fuck, yeah. And my lad?" The monster paused, shaking his head like a proud parent. "Gonna destroy the whole fuckin' Wizarding world 'cause of what I did to him. Fuckin' genius, mate."

The other man let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Best part is, though," the monster added, slapping a hand into the other man's broad chest, "I barely had to do nothin'. Most of it's in his bloody head already, the miserable fuckin' pervert."

Eyes wide, the pack leader laughed.

***

Twice. _Twice_.

Images of Sirius and Harry together assaulted Remus every waking moment after that, as his brain tried to deduce what their _second_ time together might have entailed.

First was wanking and watching. God. It was outrageous, abominable, completely depraved and indecent and it went against everything Remus stood for. Harry was _fifteen_, for God's sake, barely more than a child, and Sirius was his godfather, in a position of trust and authority over the boy, and he had abused that trust completely, _completely_, and Remus should leave, that was it; he should gather his things and get out of this house, because he couldn't be with someone who would abuse his relationship with Harry that way, someone who –

He sank down to the living room sofa and buried his face in his hands.

By that definition, he would have to run away from himself as well as from Sirius. _Fuck_.

He tried again, shaking his head to clear it.

Harry was fifteen... nearly sixteen now. He carried the weight of the Wizarding world on his shoulders. He had seen more war and death already than most people see in an entire lifetime. He had made choices no normal teenager should ever have to make, lost loved ones much earlier than most other kids and been asked to grow up much faster than his peers.

More important than any of that, Harry _adored_ Sirius. Remus knew that, and even now, he couldn't help but smile at the thought that after so long without his parents or anyone to care about him like family should, Sirius had come back into his life. It was understandable, natural even, that they should have been drawn together.

The more the issue plagued Remus's mind, the more images assaulted him of Harry and Sirius together. Slowly, as his mind and body worked through the shock of the discovery, the further his conscience shifted from outrage, betrayal and even jealousy, to quiet understanding, and finally to deep, pulsing arousal. Sirius hadn't wanted to tell him because he feared Remus would be angry, but Remus, for his part, hadn't wanted to hear it because he feared he _wouldn't_ be angry, not nearly as much as he was supposed to be.

Visions of Harry at Christmas floated through Remus's mind, and he reached for wisps of them, grabbing what he could and holding onto them. There was Harry opening the Dark Arts books Remus and Sirius had given him, grinning madly and turning warm eyes on both of them before getting up from his chair and wrapping his arms around Sirius's neck in big hug, even as his eyes flickered over to Remus and his grin deepened. There was Harry emerging from the shower, pulling a t-shirt over his head and fastening the button on his jeans, a towel jerking through his hair and his glasses still fogged with steam, passing Remus in the hall with an embarrassed _Oh, uh, hello_, before racing back to his room. There was Harry finishing his dinner with the others in the kitchen, turning around to check for Sirius at the door every three seconds and asking Remus about him every five.

Had they met up in the attic again one afternoon just like the first time, Harry holding Sirius's gaze as he slowly unfastened his jeans and wriggled out of them, palming his prick until he was flushed and panting? Or had Sirius gone further that time, nudging Harry's hand away and touching the boy himself, his long fingers wrapped around him and pressing just right? Or – _oh, God_ – had it been even more than that – Sirius's mouth on the boy, his tongue opening him up for his fingers to follow, or his cock. Jesus.

All of a sudden, a blinding pain hit Remus's head and he doubled over, hands tight in his hair and every bit of his skull on fire. When the pain subsided, there was Harry again, kneeling before him in the living room, wearing that same t-shirt and jeans and smiling shyly at Remus.

"'Lo, Professor," he said softly, and Remus groaned, running a hand over his face.

"No," he began firmly, "you're not real. Don't call me _professor_. You only do that when you're not real."

"I– oh." Harry paused. "Yeah, okay. But, maybe I'm real? I mean, do you want me to be real?"

Remus eyed him. "I don't know," he said slowly. "What are you going to do if you are?"

Harry considered that. "Like, am I going to take my clothes off?"

Remus closed his eyes.

"Or am I going to turn into a werewolf?"

Remus blinked. "Jesus." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're not real," he recited under his breath. "_Not real_."

"Look, I don't think I have much time." He glanced back over his shoulder, and Remus furrowed his brow, sitting up straighter on the sofa. "But I could tell you found out about me and Sirius, and just, I don't want you to be angry at him, okay? It wasn't his fault. He just– I mean, I don't know how it happened, but it was my fault, and I–"

"It wasn't your fault," said Remus firmly. "Don't ever think that; don't _ever_ let him make you feel that way! He shouldn't have–"

"No, listen!" Harry sighed, his eyes frantic. "I don't mean it that way, okay? He didn't force me to do anything, just like if it'd been you, I wouldn't have been forced."

Remus stared at him. "Me?"

"I–" Harry dropped his gaze, biting at his lip as a flush crept over his face. "Yeah."

"Harry," said Remus softly, the name sliding off his tongue before he could stop it, and as his gaze swept over the boy, taking in that telltale messy hair, the determined brow and the pale expanse of neck, he reached a hand out and cupped Harry's face. His fingers slid over lightly stubbled skin that _could_ have been real, _might_ have been real, if only– if only –

But as soon as Remus touched him, Harry's image began to flicker in front of him, threatening to disappear entirely.

"Shit." Harry's eyes darted back and forth. "I think I'm losing you. I just had to tell you that I can see it, Remus. I can see all of it." His brow was creased and his eyes pleading, and Remus sat forward on the sofa, peering at him.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Harry held up a hand.

"Just, listen!" he begged, glancing over his shoulder again. "I can see things in my mind – just like with Mr Weasley. Voldemort's talking to someone, a werewolf. He's telling him to get inside someone's mind, to do things to them. And then it disappears, and I can see you, and sometimes Sirius, and you're–"

Remus's eyes widened.

"–well, you're– there are things about werewolves, and I don't– I don't understand it completely, but I asked Hermione if there was a werewolf Legilimency or something, and she thought that maybe there was, maybe it's something that–"

Harry's image flickered again, like a candle trying to face down a torrent of wind, but Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pressed on.

"–werewolves can do, see in each other's minds if there's a connection, and I don't know, Remus, but Hermione's worried; she said they might be trying to hurt you, trying to–" Harry started to break up, and Remus could only catch every few words out of the boy's mouth. "Don't know what I'd do without you. Please, Remus, you– to fight it. Can't– without you. Don't blame Sirius. Needed him. Helped me. Occlumency. Danger, you and–"

"Harry!" Remus reached out for him again, but his form flickered and finally disappeared, and Remus found himself groping through empty air. He sat in the living room for a long time after that, his mind racing through the possibilities for what was going on, each more unbelievable than the last.

***

"What happened the second time?"

Sirius glanced up from his desk, quill paused in mid-air. "What?"

Gathering himself together, Remus moved into the library and closed the door behind him, checking automatically over his shoulder to make sure none of the other occasional occupants of the house was following him. "The second time," he repeated, collapsing into the armchair beside the desk. "You said it happened twice. I've been driving myself mad picturing what it could have been." He sighed, giving Sirius his best pleading look.

"Ah." Sirius set his quill down, the corners of his mouth turning down. "So, we're talking about it, then?" He gave Remus a pointed look.

"Like reasonable adults?" Remus snorted. "No, probably not." He bit at his bottom lip and looked at the floor. "But I have to know."

After a long silence, Sirius sat back in his chair. "If I fucked him, you mean," he said dully, his eyes focused on the desk before he finally glanced up and held Remus's gaze. "That's what you have to know."

Remus nodded. "Yeah."

"What if I did?"

His tone was sad, resigned, but not defensive, and Remus found he couldn't even pinpoint how he felt about the whole situation. It was somewhere on the outskirts of jealousy, but not quite yet in the realm of arousal. Picturing Sirius with Harry was intriguing somehow, but he still couldn't avoid the twist of his stomach that the very thought of it generated. "If you did?" he repeated softly, folding his hands and leaning over with his elbows planted on his knees. "Then I guess I'd have to ask you if you still want to be with me."

Sirius seemed surprised at the question. His face melted from a guarded blankness into genuine concern, and he immediately rose from the desk chair and moved over to Remus, falling to his knees in front of him. "You never have to ask that," he said firmly, his eyes bright. "Never fucking _ever_, okay? I can't explain it, but it was about me, and it was about Harry, but it never had anything to do with you." He pressed his lips together and swallowed. "There's just– there's something about that kid, isn't there? I mean, you know what I'm talking about now, don't you? After the– the things we've been doing? You feel it, too." He placed a hand on Remus's thigh.

Despite himself, Remus pushed a hand through his hair and nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "I feel it, too."

Sirius closed his eyes. "What's got into us?"

"I don't know for sure, but I've some idea."

Sirius opened his eyes again and raised his eyebrows, clearly not having expected an answer.

"When was it, exactly? Do you remember?"

Sirius wet his lips, his gaze moving over Remus's shoulder. "Uh, yeah." He scratched at his jaw. "A Wednesday. Couple of days before they all went back."

A Wednesday.

_The child was small, below average height for his age and much too gaunt. Sweat poured down his face and his entire body shook with violent tremors as his wide eyes took in the scene before him._

The monster was coming.

He was huge and terrible, coarse hair covering his limbs and sprouting out the collar of his ripped, bloodied shirt, while fangs descended over cracked lips. He snarled at the child and lunged, huge footfalls covering the distance between them quickly. The child's shoulders quaked, his tiny feet rooting him to the spot despite the screaming voice in his mind ordering him to move, run, hide as fast as he could.  
  
The very first dream whirred back to life in Remus's mind, and he clutched at the arms of the chair.

_"John Lupin's son," the monster was growling, slowing his strides and circling around the child. "Oh, revenge is sweet, isn't it, with a pretty little thing like you."  
_  
Greyback. But there had been more to it than that. Nightmares about Greyback were nothing new to Remus.

_"Has little Lupin here got a knight in shinin' armour?" He laughed, cold and dark, and the boy saw his saviour's wand falter. "Should've expected you to show up," he continued, wiping one grimy hand over his mouth and stalking forward. "I hear your mind's been ripped wide open. But this ain't a bad dream, laddie." He pointed back at the boy over his shoulder, his eyes still locked on the newcomer. "Make you a deal, though. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like, and I keep that godfather of yours out of it." He paused, his lips curling up in a knowing sneer. "Bet you like the sound of that one, eh? Come on. Give him up."_

"You know I won't," the newcomer said, his voice even and his wand hand steady again as it pointed at the monster. The boy glanced between the pair of them with wide eyes from where he huddled at the base of the tree.   
  
"His mind was open," muttered Remus, closing his hand over his mouth as comprehension finally dawned. "He was thinking of– oh my God. He couldn't have known it, but–" He glanced back at Sirius with new resolve. "Tell me what happened that night."

Sirius swallowed, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice Remus's words under his breath. "He sought me out that time, asked me to come to one of the spare rooms with him, that he had to go back to school soon and he'd miss me, miss what we'd–" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "And I went, Moony, I did, because I couldn't say no to him. He was just perfect, so scared and confident all at once, just like James had always been." He smiled sadly. "Just like you've always been. And I just, I took his clothes off and held him. I kissed him. I let him touch me, and I touched him. It all just seemed like it was supposed to happen, like there wasn't anything wrong with it. I didn't– I didn't go too far." He exhaled loudly, locking his gaze on Remus's. "Despite everything we've been playing at with these fantasies, I couldn't do any of it when he was right there in front of me. Nothing that filthy, at least." He snorted back a laugh, rubbing at his jaw again.

"But you brought him off," prompted Remus, and Sirius hesitated before he nodded.

"Yeah. Just with my hand, and my– well, both of us, at the same time. I– God, he felt good. So responsive, Moony; you should have seen him. His face was pink and his lips red, and God, he's brilliant. Made these fucking amazing little sounds, and when he came, Jesus. It was like the world completely stopped for him." He grinned, his eyes bright at the memory.

_"Make you a deal. You give me Lupin, nice and easy like, and I keep that godfather of yours out of it."_

"You came to bed smelling like him," said Remus, more to himself than to Sirius, but Sirius's mouth fell open.

"I– shit. Yeah, I probably did. I'm sorry, Moony. I'm a dickhead. I'm totally irredeemable. I'm just–"

"No, I don't care about that." Remus held up a hand to silence him, his mind still racing.

_"Make you a deal_."

Remus jumped to his feet, pacing. "His mind was open, and you came to bed smelling like him, and Greyback had been trying to get to me, completely separate from this, but when Harry's mind opened, he must have– he must have–" He stopped, turning to Sirius. "Did Harry mention me?"

Sirius blinked at him. "While we were...?"

"Yes."

"He– well." Sirius thought about it. "Yeah, actually. Quite a bit." He paused. "Never really thought about it before, but he asked if we should be doing it, if you'd know or be angry, or if he should explain it to you, or if I should, that sort of thing. And when– wow. Shit."

"What?"

Sirius rubbed at his forehead. "When I had us both in my fist, working my dick with his, he closed his eyes and he–" Sirius swallowed.

"Padfoot!"

"Okay, just give me a second! God, this is weird." He frowned at Remus before taking a deep breath and continuing. "He closed his eyes and he was panting, just about to come, and he asked if I did that with you, not just sex, like – well, you know what he meant – but like _that_, with our dicks together in my hand like that, coming all over my fist, and when I said yes, we did that quite a bit, actually, that's what sent him over, that's what made him come, and I–"

"_God_," Remus moaned, dropping back down in the chair.

"What is it?"

"That kid really should have been taught Occlumency a long fucking time ago." Remus closed his eyes. "We all should have been." He slid off his chair and down to the floor, gathering Sirius in his arms and pushing his fingers through Sirius's long hair. After a moment of uncertainty, Sirius reciprocated the gesture, pulling Remus in tight and kissing the side of his face.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his heartbeat steady against Remus's chest, and Remus cupped his face, turning him towards him and brushing their lips together.

"I know," he whispered back. "And I'm not mad, not anymore. Just worried."

"So, what is it, then?" asked Sirius, pulling back and brushing the hair off Remus's face. "Harry's controlling your dreams?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I don't think he knows what he's doing. Same as with Arthur or his other visions. But if Voldemort's in his mind, and Greyback's in mine, and Christ, Voldemort's in _Greyback's_, then there's more than enough room for the wires to cross. Especially if–" He paused, searching Sirius's eyes.

Their gazes held, locked together for several long seconds before Sirius's features softened in comprehension, and he nodded slowly. "Ah. Especially if you've already been thinking about each other," he finished quietly, taking a deep breath.

Remus swept his thumb across Sirius's cheek, waiting.

"He's a great kid," added Sirius at last, smiling gently at Remus. "Brilliant, really. He'd be lucky to land either one of us."

Remus laughed. "Either one of us would be lucky to land him, you mean."

"Or that." Sirius pulled him in again for a kiss, his lips opening smoothly and drawing Remus in. "Or," he murmured against Remus's lips, "the three of us could be really lucky to have found each other."

A shiver rippled through Remus's body at the thought, and he hesitated, his lips hovering near Sirius's as images of Harry splashed through his mind, but instead of the usual panic he'd felt over the past few months whenever thoughts of Harry surfaced, this time he felt only peace, a single drop of calm sliding down his spine and spreading through his body. "We should probably gauge Harry's interest in the matter before making that decision for him," he said with a quiet laugh, and Sirius grinned.

"Oh. Yeah, good point." He paused, running the tip of one finger up and down Remus's arm. "Hey, Moony?"

"Mm."

"We set?"

Remus glanced at him. "Yeah. We're good." A mischievous smile crept back over his face. "You can't keep your dick in your pants, and I can't keep my imaginary dick in my _imaginary_ pants. What a pair." He shook his head sadly as Sirius punched him in the arm.

"Love you," he murmured, his eyes bright as they gazed at Remus. "Always have, always will."

"I know," Remus whispered, wrapping his arms around him. "Love you, too." He paused. "No one else'd have us, that's for sure."

Sirius snorted into Remus's shoulder. "Except Harry?" he asked hopefully, and Remus laughed, but the smile quickly faded as he contemplated his next move.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But before we can worry about any of that, there's something else I need to do."

Sirius glanced up from Remus's shoulder.

"Figure out how to get Greyback out of my bloody head."

***

"Don't you think you should show him?"

Remus opened his eyes, startled, to find himself back in their bedroom at Grimmauld Place, his head aching as a dream-like fog clouded his vision. A moment later the wisps cleared away, and Remus was left staring down at his bed, blinking in disbelief.

"He's new to all of this, Moony. How else do you think he'll figure out his body, figure out the way werewolves... do things." That slow, lazy smile spread across Sirius's face as he sauntered across the room, clad only in his worn jeans with his chest bare and his long hair loose. Remus followed him to the bed, where Harry lay on his stomach, naked and wetting his lips as he watched them.

"Harry?" croaked Remus, blinking.

"Professor Lupin," said Harry, grinning as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I told you not to call me that. It's not appropriate for me to–"

"Relax, _Professor_," said Sirius, moving over to him and running a light hand down his back. "None of this is appropriate," he whispered in Remus's ear, "but that's never stopped us before, has it?"

"He was my student," protested Remus, pointing at the bed, "and he's James's son, your godson, our _responsibility_. We can't just–"

"But we can, Moony." Sirius's warm words floated over Remus's skin as his lips followed, pressing soft but urgent kisses up Remus's neck and jaw line before capturing his mouth. Sirius grasped Remus's head in his hands and deepened the kiss, and Remus found himself responding as he always did, unable to resist Sirius at moments like this. "He needs you," Sirius whispered against Remus's lips, soft and inviting, as he began to unbutton Remus's shirt. "He's a werewolf now, remember? He needs to know what it's like."

A tiny kernel of doubt crept in from the back of Remus's mind, fluttering around the edges of his consciousness in a way he couldn't pinpoint. _He's not a werewolf. This isn't real_. He glanced over at the bed again to find Harry still stretched out, though, and shook his head a bit to clear it. Why was he having doubts? That was selfish of him. Sirius was right: if Harry was a werewolf now, he deserved to know, first-hand, how his body was going to react to certain things – things like sex and arousal and the blind need werewolves had to fuck and get fucked. He took a deep breath, approaching the bed. "Is that true, Harry?" he asked quietly, the tips of his fingers ghosting up Harry's naked back as he stood beside the bed. "Do you need to know what it's like?"

Harry closed his eyes and arched up into the touch, pulling his bottom lip in under his teeth before nodding. "My body's different, isn't it?" he murmured, his eyes wide as they moved between Remus and Sirius. "It can handle–" he wet his lips again – "more than it could before, right?"

The kernel of doubt slid out of reach, like a lonely drop of water spiralling down the shower drain, as the lust of the wolf overtook Remus's rational mind. The scent of young, fresh werewolf assaulted him, rising off Harry's body in waves, and underneath the promise of acquiescence was a small hint of challenge, the tiniest bit of emotion that Harry evidently hadn't been able to hide, and which told Remus that learning from an older teacher wasn't all the boy had in mind for the night. If he was to learn how werewolves fuck, he wasn't going to do it quietly, not without challenging the alpha first. The very thought of it stiffened all the muscles in Remus's body and quickened his heart rate.

"Hear that, Moony?" said Sirius, flashing him a grin. "He can handle _more_. What do you think that means, by the way?" The playful grin spread across his face as he unzipped his jeans and shoved them down. "Tell us, Harry. Are you talking about pain? Or about stamina? Or maybe just about cock." Naked now, he strolled over to the bed and crawled onto it, his hands already sliding over the backs of Harry's legs and over his arse and lower back. Wasting no time, he straddled Harry and let his dick slide lightly over Harry's cleft. "Is it just that you can handle more cock, kid, now that you're a wolf?"

Harry groaned, pushing himself up on his knees and rocking back to meet Sirius, who wrapped his arms around him from behind.

The two of them were a sight, dark hair flowing together and long, youthful limbs a beautiful contrast to Sirius's broader frame. Taking a step back, Remus unbuttoned his shirt and began to push it off his shoulders, his eyes still intent on the bed. "So," Remus said, as Harry continued to writhe under Sirius's hands, "he thinks he can take more cock, just because he's a wolf, does he?"

Harry turned his head towards Remus and wet his lips, a slow grin spreading over his face. "You sound surprised," he teased. "What, you don't want Sirius's cock up your arse, hard and slow, when the moon gets closer?"

Dropping his shirt to the floor and placing his hands on his hips, Remus glared down at the figures on the bed. "No," he said quietly. "When the moon gets closer, on a night like tonight–" he glanced over to the window and then back at Harry – "I want to pin him down and fuck him until he can't move." He held Harry's gaze and took in the tremor that rippled through him.

Sirius groaned and laughed softly at the same time, his voice thick as his hands moved up Harry's back. "I can testify to that," he murmured, nuzzling the back of Harry's neck. "But right now, wolf or no, you're the youngest one here, which means–"

"–we get to do what we want with you," Remus finished, sharing a look with Sirius.

"God, yes," moaned Harry, falling back down to the bed on his stomach and closing his eyes, his cheek mashed into the pillow. Curling over his back, Sirius reached between his legs with a murmured spell and began to touch him, lightly at first, from Remus's vantage point, and then pushing deeper. His fingers slid over Harry's balls and then further back, disappearing between his legs as Sirius's bicep flexed and Harry's mouth fell open.

"Do you feel that, wolf?" murmured Remus, still standing beside the bed with his hands on his hips, his head tilted to the side for a better view of Sirius's movements.

Harry began to lift his hips as Sirius's fingers pressed in and out of him, and soon he had lifted himself up to his elbows once more, bending his knees and pushing back on Sirius's hand. Sirius's arm worked rhythmically, holding Remus spellbound, the slow pump of it in and out of Harry's body like a drifting pendulum swing, each one causing Harry's moans to drop lower and last longer.

"Sirius is going to get you ready for me," said Remus, his voice still as quiet but firm as he could manage against the arousal coursing through him. "He's going to take you first, Harry, make you wet and dirty for me to follow him. Do you want that? Normally I prefer to break in new wolves myself," he added, not waiting for Harry's reply, "but in this case, I'm willing to make an exception. It's nice of me, isn't it, Padfoot?"

Sirius glanced over at him and grinned, his face melting into that expression of pure wickedness that only a true Marauder could pull off so innocently, and Remus felt his own smile tug at his lips in response. Oh yes, the wolf inside Remus was going to enjoy this spectacle very much indeed, his lover preparing the new wolf for the alpha, the three of them collaborating to ensure Harry was thoroughly debauched in every way, before sending him out to the packs.

Wait.

Remus paused, one hand scrubbing at his face as his brain skipped a beat. The room fell into shadow for a brief moment, the edges blurring and the figures of Harry and Sirius melting from the bed.

In their place, for just one second, one brief lightning flash of a second, a monster appeared on the bed. He was kneeling, his clothing tight around his broad frame and ripped at the knees and elbows.

Send Harry out to the packs. Harry was to go with Remus on his liaising missions, the two werewolves representing the Order, to try to –

The image of the monster flashed once more over the bed, his lips curled in a nasty grin as he moved forward, closing the distance between himself and Remus.

Send Harry out to –

Send him –

They would rip him apart; he was too young. They would see and smell only fresh meat, the untarnished flesh of youth. They would want to taste him, penetrate him, make him bleed. He wouldn't be ready for that unless Remus _made_ him ready, Remus and Sirius both.

Right, yes. That was it.

Comforted by this thought, Remus blinked again and refocused as the colour seeped back into the room before him, the image of the monster disappearing with a faint _pop_ and the bed once again occupied by Harry and Sirius. Sirius's mouth was moving, forming syllables Remus couldn't hear until they slowly rose in volume, like a dial being turned up.

"–so good, Moony, God, you won't even be ready for this, for how good he is. So tight." Sirius stopped talking and groaned, falling over Harry's back again and shoving his hips forward. Remus moved closer to the bed and reached for his belt as he walked, craning his neck a bit to get a better view of what was happening on the bed. Harry was curled nearly into a ball, his bent knees pressing into the mattress and brushing up against his chest, his cheek mashed against the pillows and his fists tight in the sheets. Sirius's prick stabbed into him, deep and quick, his fingers curved over Harry's shoulders for leverage as he hauled himself forward, over and over again.

It was a lovely sight, Remus couldn't help but think, the boy flushed and moaning as his godfather took him, shoving deep inside him and muttering over his back about how good he was, how tight and compliant and oh so eager for cock. Remus pushed his own trousers down and stepped out of them, pausing to sweep a hand over his cock and gasping at the contact. His arousal only grew in intensity the more he watched the scene in front of him.

"Let me see," he instructed Sirius quietly, moving behind him as Sirius threw a grin over his shoulder at Remus, repositioning himself to allow Remus a better view. He bent down and grazed his lips over Sirius's bare shoulder as he watched, Sirius sitting back on his heels and dragging his cock free of Harry's body, a slow, wet slide that left the boy quivering. Pausing outside his entrance, Sirius trailed his hands down from Harry's shoulders to his hips before pushing back in again, closing his eyes and gasping together with Remus as they both watched. Sirius's prick disappeared inside Harry's body once more, and Remus had to restrain himself from biting down too hard on Sirius's shoulder. "Harder," he whispered. "If he's really a wolf, he'll be able to take it."

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed at that, low and cruel. "Are you really a wolf, Harry?" he growled, thrusting in deep.

"God," choked Harry, pushing back to meet him, his face pink and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Only a wolf could take us both like you're going to," Sirius continued, increasing his pace and slamming forward into Harry, forcing him down further on the bed and digging his fingers into the boy's hips.

"Harder," Remus murmured again, dragging the tip of his tongue up Sirius's neck and biting at his earlobe. "Fill him up for me."

That did it. With a long, deep groan, Sirius clutched at Harry's hips and stilled, pouring himself into the boy's body as his eyes fell shut and his body shuddered with release. Beneath him, Harry gasped and cried out, and Remus's own prick swelled at the thought of what Harry must be feeling at that moment, full and filthy and thoroughly fucked, his godfather's prick softening inside him.

"Stay there, Harry," said Remus, his voice quiet but firm. Sirius sighed and began to pull back, his cock slipping free of Harry's body with a wet sound. Come trailed down the back of Harry's thigh, and his knees gave way as he collapsed down to the bed. Panting, Sirius rose from the bed and wet his lips, his eyes flashing at Remus as a slow smile danced at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in to kiss Remus, pushing one hand around the back of Remus's neck and pulling him in close, their tongues tangling and their mouths moving together.

"Your turn," Sirius murmured to him when they broke apart, glancing down at Harry, and Remus felt all the bloodlust of the wolf pool low in his body. He climbed onto the bed, appraising the boy with newfound appreciation.

"So, my young wolf," he said softly, his fingers light over Harry's back, "are you ready to be trained properly, to prepare for what the packs are going to do to you when we get out there?" He slid his hand lower, working into Harry's cleft and trailing his fingers through Sirius's come, anticipating the boy's gasps of pleasure and moans of encouragement.

But Harry neither gasped nor moaned.

All of a sudden, he pushed himself to his knees and rose up, turning on the bed to face Remus with wide eyes. "_Occlumency_," he whispered furiously, his face grave and his lips parted. Breathing hard, he held Remus's eyes, searching them. "Come on, Remus," he pleaded. "You can do this. Say the spell. Shield your mind. You _have_ to."

The image before him jolted again, Harry disappearing and buzzing back in place like a Wizarding photograph taken with the wrong kind of film. His movements were jumpy, erratic. Remus pinched his thumb and forefinger over his brow for a second before looking up again. There, that was better. Harry had fallen down to the bed again and was lazily stroking his cock, grinning up at Remus as his lips moved around syllables Remus couldn't hear.

"–to fuck me or what, Professor?" he was saying, as the sound filtered back in. "Or is the old wolf all bark and no bite?" A grin as wicked as Sirius's spread over Harry's face, taunting the wolf in Remus and encouraging him to push back all his doubts again and press himself across Harry's back.

He shoved his cock into the tight space between Harry's legs, nudging at his balls and sliding forward with a low growl, as his lips sought the back of Harry's neck. "No bite?" he muttered, his teeth grazing the soft skin. "Careful what you wish for, Harry."

"Oh, fuck yes. Bite him." Sirius sat back down on the bed again near Harry's face, pulling the boy up for a deep kiss. He threaded his fingers through Harry's already-messy hair and pulled back from his lips reluctantly, Harry still leaning in towards him for more. Sirius glanced over Harry's head at Remus. "Can't hurt him, can you?" he said wickedly, licking his lips. "The pair of you can't bite me, of course, or I'll have your bollocks, but how about a little wolf play for me, Moony?" He grinned, and Remus felt the power of it down to the tips of his toes. He was always helpless to resist Sirius when he got like this, so firm about telling Remus exactly what he wanted. "Tear him up," Sirius continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Make him bleed."

A surge of desire slammed through Remus's body at that. He reached down and grabbed his prick, moving it up from between Harry's legs to press into his entrance. The way was still eased from Sirius earlier, having already fucked the boy wide open, and Remus shoved himself inside even as Harry groaned and collapsed down into Sirius's arms at the head of the bed.

"Professor," moaned Harry, his fingers clutching at Sirius's biceps as Remus thrust into him from behind.

God, the boy felt good. His body opened so nicely under Remus's assault, spreading for him and acquiescing to the wolf, making those delicious whimpering noises and pushing back to meet Remus at every thrust. The scent of young wolf rolled off Harry's body, the purple wound at his neck standing out starkly against his pale skin, and Remus found himself fixating on it, his eyes drawn to that mark like nothing else. If he could just taste him, just experience that sensation of his teeth sinking into young wolf flesh and ripping, tearing it away and savouring it in his mouth, if he could just lean down once, only once, and feel the jerk of Harry's body as Remus flooded his insides with come and took a chunk of his flesh in his mouth, then everything would be okay, everything would– he could just– if only he –

His fingernails scraped down Harry's sides as he hauled himself forward, burying himself inside the boy and dropping his head to that delightful, pale shoulder.

"Do it, Moony," Sirius was murmuring, his gaze locked on Harry's skin just under Remus's mouth. "Come on."

"Remus!" Harry whipped his head around with wild eyes and shouted the name, and Remus froze. "Don't you dare bite me. Don't you _dare_. This isn't real. You know it isn't. Please, listen to me!"

Swallowing and blinking, Remus's chest heaved and his dick throbbed where it was lodged in Harry's arse. "Harry. What are you– just–" He squeezed his eyes closed. "Do you not want this? I– I would never do this if you didn't want it. I can't–"

Harry's voice softened. "Of course I want it," he breathed. "Both of you, like this?" He almost laughed, glancing between Remus and Sirius. "My every wank fantasy come true, _God_." His gaze hardened as his smile faded. "But not like this. I'm not a wolf; you _know _I'm not! You have to take your mind back. They want you to bite me. If you can do it in the dream, you can do it in reality. They want me to bleed, Remus, don't you see it? You can– you– don't give in to– I– need to–"

The image fogged again, Harry's speech interrupted by static and a sharp buzzing in Remus's ears, and he dug his fingers further into Harry's hips to prove to himself that the body underneath him was real, that this was really happening.

"It's _not_ really happening!" protested Harry again, as if reading his mind. "Remus, listen to me!"

"Harder, Moony. God, yes, look at how much he wants it."

As if the speed of the action had increased again, back to normal, the scene resumed around him, Sirius murmuring encouragement and Harry writhing underneath him on the bed.

"Please, Professor," panted Harry. "Come inside me, just like Sirius. Want to feel you both, want to– oh, _God_."

At that, Sirius reached underneath Harry and wrapped a hand around his dick, stroking it roughly and nuzzling his face against the boy's hair again as Remus slowly drew his cock out of Harry's body, watching with fascination and confusion as it appeared, dark and glistening, and then with a long, slow breath, he steadied himself to push inside again. _Don't bite him_. The words flitted across his mind, and he creased his brow to shake them free. _Desire him, take him, come all over him, but do not bite him_.

On instinct, he glanced over at the corner of the room to see the monster lurking in the shadows, his hulking frame dwarfing the nearby chair. Remus closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

_Get out of my head_.

Smirking, the monster began to inch forward, hands the size of dinner plates swinging at his sides, and as he stepped into the beam of light streaming in from the window, Remus caught a good look at his face.

_Get out, Greyback_. He focused all his energies on repelling the monster. _You cannot have the boy, and you cannot have me_.

His smirk fading, the monster tried to take another step forward but could not, his foot lodged in mid-air.

_He's mine to protect_.

Remus's body pounded with tension and aggression and the blind lust of surging into Harry while trying to repel the darkness in his mind, and after what seemed like ages, the monster began to move backwards again, retreating to the corner of the room.

Remus clutched at Harry, covering his body as though what they were doing would be enough to protect him, and focusing his mind once more, he gazed at the corner of the room. Pushing himself as far as he could, he saw a tall figure begin to take shape behind the retreating monster, long, pale fingers curling over the monster's shoulder and hauling him back.

"Useless!" a cold voice spat. "I've no time for this. Will he maul the boy or not?"

Sweat dripping from his brow, Remus raised a shaking hand and wiped his face, narrowing his eyes at the image in the corner even as he continued to thrust into Harry's body.

"No," the monster admitted, his voice thick and rough with annoyance. "Let me try again; let me–"

"Silence," the cold voice hissed, and then a sharp pain sliced through Remus's head as red eyes locked on his, seeming to stare at him from the corner of his own bedroom. In another second, the eyes slid over him and Harry and moved on to Sirius, sweeping up his body as he cradled Harry against him. At last, he turned back to the monster. "The plan has changed. I need the boy... untouched."

_Get out_.

With another spike of pain through his head, Remus squeezed his eyes closed and focused all his energies on expelling the figures. When he opened his eyes again, the monster and the thin figure had begun to fade completely into shadow. Remus glanced over at them and frowned, concentrating all his remaining energy on pushing them away. His expression a mixture of rage and fear, the monster fell into shades of grey before melting away entirely, until he was only a swirl of dust that sank into the carpet and disappeared, the thin figure following him.

Remus shook his head to clear it, before glancing back down at the body shuddering underneath him.

"Come on, Remus," Sirius was whispering, his chest heaving and his hand still working Harry's prick. "Come inside him. He wants you to. He's always wanted it."

God, this was insane. This was a mess. Remus's blood sped up, slamming through his body as he looked down again and pumped into Harry, relishing the boy's uncharacteristic cries of _God, yes, Professor Lupin!_ and riding the torrent of shame and confusion and deep, aching desire that filled him whenever he thought about Harry. With a final, choked moan, he dug his fingernails into the boy's hips and hauled himself forward, freezing in place as his orgasm pulsed out of him. He felt himself fill the boy up, spurting deep inside him and sullying everything about him he and Sirius had both sworn to protect, and the thrill of it shot through his nerve endings and bathed him in cold pleasure.

From underneath him, Sirius pulled his hand away from Harry covered in come, bringing it up to his mouth and slowly licking it clean as Harry collapsed to the bed, grinning and moaning out a disbelieving laugh. He flopped over onto his back as Remus sat back on his heels, still breathing hard.

"You did it, Moony," Sirius said softly, crawling over to him and leaning in to give Remus a long, slow kiss. "You pushed them back."

"I– I don't know what I did." Remus glanced around at the pile of sheets torn free of the bed and at the three naked bodies still panting and flushed on top of it.

"You pushed them back," Sirius assured him. "You made this _your_ dream, not theirs."

Smiling at him, Harry worked himself into a sitting position, struggling for a second to free himself from a tangle of damp sheets. Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry and gazed down at him, the worry lines seeming to fade from his face. He leaned in and brushed a kiss across Harry's lips, and when he pulled back, he let his free hand cup Remus's cheek.

"You are both brilliant," he said softly. "Loyal, honest, and dead fucking sexy." He grinned at them, and despite himself, Remus found himself smiling back. He leaned in and kissed Harry's forehead as Sirius spoke, and the boy seemed to melt in their joint embrace. "You've got much better at this Occlumency thing, though," Sirius added to Remus, his smile faltering. "Make sure Harry keeps practicing. Not with Snape," he added, his face darkening. "Fucking prick. But with you. With someone, anyone. His mind isn't as strong as yours yet, Moony. You'll have to help him." Sirius rose from the bed and grabbed his jeans.

"But what are you– where are–" Remus paused, a growing alarm in his chest as Sirius moved towards the door. "Why are you leaving us here? You could still– I mean, we could–"

"I think I have to go," said Sirius, his voice soft as he hauled his jeans on. He looked puzzled but determined, nodding to himself after casting about the room. With one last glance back at them, Sirius reached for the door handle but never turned it. Instead, he simply faded through it, as though the wood itself had absorbed him. His voice floated back into the dark bedroom. "I love you both," it said, and Remus's eyes widened in alarm.

"No!"

With a strangled shout, Remus sat bolt upright on the living room sofa, his eyes blurred from the dream and caked with crust.

A wave of nausea passed through him, his head pounding and his breath absent entirely, until he tried to speak and ended up coughing, hitting himself in the chest and taking deep breaths with his head between his knees.

He glanced quickly around the living room, which was just as quiet and solitary as it had been when he had fallen asleep. Bloody, fucking hell. His heart still pounding, he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and tried to get his bearings.

"Remus!" His eyes wild and his face paler than Remus had ever seen it, Sirius threw the living room door open and skidded inside, his chest heaving. "Come on. Now. We have to go." He paused to swallow. "The Order's going to follow."

"What?" Remus jumped to his feet and swayed, leaning back to grab the edge of the sofa for support. "What's going on?"

Sirius was already halfway out the door again, but he called back over his shoulder, his voice trembling. "Message from Snape. Harry's left the school, trying to get to the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters are after him, Moony! Come on. We've got to get to him first."

Remus stared after him for five long, thudding seconds before his brain could catch up, and then he ran as fast as he could, only one thing on his mind:

_Harry_.

***

**Phase 5: Revelation**

"So, have your aunt and uncle been feeling suitably threatened?" Remus's voice floated over the currents of the Hogwarts lake, sounding hollow in his own ears.

Harry snorted. "Yeah. You lot can be pretty intimidating."

It was a pleasant day, all things considered. The sun was out and the clouds seemed rightly chastised about staying away. A light breeze swept up the shore, but for July, it certainly could have been cooler.

"I'm sorry we couldn't talk more then," added Remus. "They got you back to the school so quickly after– well. And then, with your aunt and uncle there, I didn't really have a chance to talk to you at the station."

"Yeah. I know." Harry swallowed. "It's okay."

"I know this isn't ideal," continued Remus, gesturing his hand at their surroundings, "but it was the best place I could think of for us to talk for a moment. Professor Dumbledore agreed to it, but only for an hour. I'm–" He sighed, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry I've not been able to help you more."

The boy was quiet.

"I– how are you, then?" Remus shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes staring straight ahead, jealous for a moment of the lazy ripples of the lake.

Beside him, Harry had adopted the same stance. He shrugged at the question, lowering his head.

"Right, well, it'll be– hard." Remus swallowed. "Might take some time before you can talk about–"

"Angry."

Remus glanced over at the boy, who met his gaze quickly before turning away again.

"To answer your question."

Ah. Remus scratched at his forehead before returning that hand to his pocket. "Angry," he repeated softly. "Yes. Me too."

Harry turned to him again. "You're not going to tell me not to be angry? That it was fate, some divine plan, or something?"

"Is that what everyone else is telling you?"

Harry kicked at a stone and took his hands out of his pockets, folding them defiantly over his chest. He nodded.

Sighing, Remus bent to pick up a rock, hurtling it out over the water and relishing the disruptive splash it made. "I'm not going to tell you how to feel, no," he said quietly as the ripples spread and then settled. "I can only tell you that he loved you. More than anything." He pressed his lips together, still gazing out at the lake.

"He loved you, too."

Remus turned to find Harry glancing at him, his face flushed. "Yes, he did," he said slowly, "but the two are not mutually exclusive." He turned back towards the lake.

"No, I know, I just meant–"

"He loved you," repeated Remus, his voice firm. "That's all that matters."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Harry's head snap towards him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Remus frowned. "It means what it means. That the only thing you have to know is–"

"Bollocks!"

Remus glanced at the boy, whose face was quickly colouring.

"There's a lot more than that I'd like to know," he bit out, breathing hard through flaring nostrils.

"Harry, listen to me," Remus began, but Harry cut him off.

"You _know_ what I know," insisted Harry, his eyes pleading. In the next breath, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You know what I saw."

Remus opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. "No, I don't," insisted Remus, "and even if I did, this isn't the time," he muttered.

"So I'm supposed to ask Dumbledore about it?" said Harry, his voice rising. "You were in my head, Remus! I don't understand how– and then, the vision of Sirius– it was all so _real_, I just–"

Remus's heart sped up as he listened, his brow creasing as he tried to think of what to tell the boy. "I know about what happened between the two of you," he began, not at all sure that this was the right place to start. "But I don't want you feeling– I don't know. Ashamed or, or jealous, or I don't know. Anything like that about it."

Harry's mouth clamped shut, and his eyes darted from side to side. "You know because he told you, or you know because you saw it?"

Remus glanced at him. "I didn't see it." He tried to push down the rising images of Sirius with the boy, or of Remus's dreams about the three of them, or of all the fantasies he and Sirius had voiced to each other. "He told me. We– we didn't keep secrets from each other, Harry. But you already knew that, didn't you?" he added. "Why don't you tell me what _you've_ seen?"

"Oh, God," groaned Harry, covering his face with one hand, all his rage seeming to melt into a puddle on the grass as his shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, running the hand up through his hair and then gesturing vaguely in front of them. "I mean, I know you two were– were just– well. I didn't mean to come between–"

"You didn't," Remus interrupted. "But I'd like you to answer the question."

Harry turned to him, his face expectant even through the layers of black sagging under his eyes.

Already knowing the answer, Remus prompted Harry anyway. "Did you ever have any other visions these past few months, not of Arthur or the snake or the others you told Professor Dumbledore about, but– other things?"

Harry looked up at him, his face pale as his tongue sneaked out to wet his bottom lip. Likely without his intent, his gaze dropped down Remus's body and back up, and his chest began to rise and fall a bit faster. "Yes," he whispered.

"Was I in them?" Remus pressed, and the boy nodded, his breathing accelerating even further.

"You and Sirius and– and Moony, and me, and a lot of– things," he stammered, his face colouring, and Remus nearly choked on the tide of disbelief and shame and arousal that welled up in him.

"So, it was true," he murmured under his breath. "You saw all of that." When he looked up at Harry, he wanted to reach out and brush a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes, but he didn't dare.

"God," moaned Harry, one hand squeezing his temples. "Yeah. I don't know if it was all of it, but it was– a lot. What–" He glanced up again, his brow creasing. "That couldn't have been Voldemort, could it?"

Sighing, Remus said, "I'm not sure, Harry, but that's something we're going to need to figure out. We're linked somehow, in ways even Sirius didn't quite understand." He felt the boy tremble beside him at the sound of Sirius's name, and he placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Voldemort opened your mind, and Greyback opened mine. Somehow the rules of that got bent a bit, and we–" He made a vague back-and-forth gesture with his free hand. "Were you– that is to say–" he cleared his throat – "were you terribly alarmed by the things you saw, the places your mind went?" He could barely bring himself to look at the boy until he answered.

"Alarmed?" Harry's eyes grew wide. "God, no. I was– oh my God. You were– I mean, the pair of you were just so brilliant." For a brief moment, Remus saw the grief fade away from the lines of Harry's face, replaced by memories that clearly calmed him. Remus could barely believe the boy wouldn't be scarred for life by all of this. He watched Harry carefully as he paused, wetting his lips again and gazing at Remus shyly. "Is it– I mean, is it true that you were thinking of– of me, or was that just the visions?"

Harry's chest rose and fell rhythmically, his eyes wide and his tone hopeful. This entire conversation could not have been more inappropriate; Remus could scarcely believe they were even having it, but he recognised the need in Harry's voice. He couldn't take more bad news right now, anything that could be construed as rejection. Remus found he couldn't have lied even if he'd wanted to. "It was true," murmured Remus, staring out at the lake again as he felt Harry's hand slip into his. Startled, he glanced down at their joined fingers and then back up to Harry's face, searching it. "It was true for both of us separately, and both of us together. We– well." He scratched at his jaw with his free hand. "We both fell a little bit in love with you, I think," he whispered.

Harry's hand squeezed his, and when he dared glance at the boy again, he found much of the fear and pain fading away, replaced by an untroubled look of peace. "Me too," he said quietly, and Remus smiled sadly, brushing his thumb over the back of the boy's hand.

"This isn't– I mean– you're still very young," stammered Remus, but when he tried to pull his hand away, Harry held it fast.

"And I've fought Voldemort four times now, and seen people die, and made an awful lot of decisions that were harder than this one," he said, his jaw set. After a moment's pause, while Remus tried to figure out what to say, Harry spoke again. "He's really gone, isn't he?"

A wave of grief washing over him anew, Remus nodded. His hand trembled where Harry held it.

"Then I won't lose you as well."

Remus's head jerked over to the boy, taking in the telltale determination on his face. Stubborn bloody bastard. He sighed despite himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You won't," he assured him. "But Harry–"

"No more talking," Harry interrupted, moving closer until their arms and the sides of their legs were touching above and below their still-joined hands. "Just this now, okay?" He glanced down at their hands and smiled, raising his gaze again to Remus.

The lazy rhythm of the water brushed against the shore, and for the first time in months, Remus felt his mind relax, emptying of all tension and then filling up with visions of their present moment. It was enough. "Okay." Squeezing Harry's hand, he nodded. "Just this."

 

-fin-


End file.
